
Class. 



13^ 



B()(* 



k_^ 



ui:^i-:NTKb BY 





C M^iJ^t^ylyl^ 




TITIAN'S MOSES./ 



U, 8. DEPARTMENT OF LABC.l. 



A TRAMP ABROAD; 



ILLUSTKATEB BY W. FR. BROWN, TRUE WILLIAMS, B. DAT AND OTHER 

ARTISTS — WITH ALSO THREE OR POUR PICTURES MADE BT 

THE AUTHOR OF THIS BOOK, WITHOUT OUTSIDE HELP ; 

IN ALL 



THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS. 



MARK TWAIN, 

(SAMUEL L. CLEMENS.) 



( SOLD BY SUBSCRIPTION ONLY.) 



HARTFOED, CONIST. t 

AMERICAN PUBLISHING COMPACT. 

CHATTO & WINDUS, London. 
1891. 






COPYRIGHT BY 

Samuel L. CLEMENa. 
1879. 



P. 
D.CJom./iLab 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGB. 

1. PoKTKATT OF THE Attthok, [Steel Engkaving] Feontispiecb 

2. Titiak's Moses [I iTLL Page] " 

3. Tub Atithor's Memories [Full Page] IT 

4. The Black Knight 20 

5. Opening HIS Vizieb . . 20 

6. The Enraged Emperor . = 21 

7. The POETIBR 23 

8. One up THOSE Boys - 24 

9. SoHLOss Hotel [Full Page] .... 26 

10. In My Cage 28 

11. Heidelberg Castle [Full Page] . 29 

12. Heidelberg Castle, KiTEK Frontage [Full Page] . 33 

13. The Retreat ... , 35 

14. Jim Bakee 86 

15. "A Blue Flush about It" 40 

16. Could NOT See It [Tail Piece]. , 42 

17. The Beer King , 44 

18 The Lecturer's Audience . ,.,, , , 45 

19. Industrious Students. 46 

20. Idle Student . ,. 47 

21. Companionable Intekcourse . ..,, 48 

22. An Imposing Spectacle .. 48 ^ 

23. An Advertisement .. 49 

24. '-Understands His Business" .'i2 

25. The old Surgeon ... 53 

26 The First Wound 54 

27. The Castle Court [Full Page] '. 59 

28. Wounded .. 64 

29. Favorite Street Costume 64 

30 Ineffaceable Scars ... 65 

31. Piece of Sword 68 

32. French Calm ... 70 

33. The Challenge Accepted ....... , 71 

34. A Search 72 

35 He Swooned Ponderously 73 

36 I Rolled Him Over ... 74 

37 The One I Hired 75 

38. The March to the Field [Full Page] ., ., 78 

39 TnE Post OF DANGER. ... — SO 

40 The Reconciliation 81 

41 An Object OF Admiration . S2 

42. Wagner 84 

43 Raging . .. 84 

44. Roaring 85 

45. Shrieking. . 85 

46 A Customary Thing , 86 

47 One of the ''Rest" 87 

48. A Contribution Box ., 88 

49. Conspicuous 89 

50. Tailpiece 39 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



IV 

91 

9- 

!.!.!.!...!.. y* 

'.'..'. 96 

9S 



51. Only a Shkikk 

52. "HkOxNltCkt" 

53. l'atb Comees Cakbd For. ^^ 

54. Evidently Dreaming. 



55. "Turn on more iiain " ^^ 

56. Harris Attending the Opera 

57. Painting my Great Picture 



58. Our Start. 



104 



59. AN Unknown Costume ^^. 

60. The Tower j^^ 

61. Slow but Sure ^^ 

62. Tub Kobbeb Chief [Full Pagei ^^^ 

63. An Honest Man 



11 
113 



64. The Town by Night 

65. Generations of Baeefeet ^^. 

66. Our B kdroom ^^^ 

67. Practicing ' ^jg 

68. Pawing Around ^.-^^ 

69. A Night's Work 

70. Leaving Heilbronn ^f_ 

71. The Cai'Tain ^^^ 

73. "Waiting for the Train [Tail Piece] 127 

73. A Deep and Tranquil Ecstacy 129 

74. "Which Answered Just as Well" ^"^ 

75. Life on a Kaft '■ "" 

76. Lady Gertrude 133 

77. Mouth of the Cavern [Full Page] 136 

78. A Fatal Mistake 13' 



79. Tail Piece. 



138 



80. Rafting on the Neckar [Full Page] 139 

81. The Lorelei ^ I'll 

82. The IjOver's Fate I'lS 

83. Tail Piece 149 

84. The Unknown Knight 151 

85. The Embeac k '. 152 

86. Perilous Position 154 

87. The Raft in a Storm 157 

88. All Safe on Shore 15S 

89. " It was the Cat " 160 

90. Tail Piece 160 

91. Breakfast in thb Garden 162 

92. EiSiLY Understood 164 

93. Experimenting Through Harris 167 

94. At the Ball Room Door 169 

95. The Town of Dilsberg 171 

96. OuK Adv.vnce on Dilsberg 172 

97. Inside the Town 175 

98. The Old Well 176 

99. Send Hither thk Lord Ulrich ; 178 

100. Le.id Mb to Her Grave 180 

101. Under the Linden 181 

102. An Excellent Pilot, Once 182 

103. SCATTERA.TION 183 

104. The River Bath [Tail Piece] • 183 

lO'i. Etruscan Tear Jug 185 

106. Henri II Plate 185 

107. Old Blue China 1S6 

liiS. A Real Antique 188 

109. Brica-Brao Shop [Full Page] 1S9 

110. " Put It There" W2 

111. The PApaoN Captured 194 



ILLUSTRATIONS. v 

112. Taii. Piece ,....,... 195 

113. A COMPEKHKNSITB YaWN 197 

114. Testing the Coin 198 

115. Beauty at the Bath 199 

116. Isr THE Bath 201 

117. Jebset Indians 203 

118. Not Particularly Sociable... 206 

119. Black Forest Grandee 208 

120. The Grandee's Daughter. 209 

121. Rich Old Huss 211 

122. Gbbtchen 211 

123. Paul Hoch 212 

124. HvNS Schmidt 212 

125. Elkcting a New Member 213 

126. VERCOMING Obstacles 215 

127. Friends 216 

128. Peospeoting ... 218 

%9. Tail Piece 220 

130. A General Howl 223 

131. Seeking a Situation 224 

132. Standing Guard — 227 

133. liESULT OF A Joke 228 

134. Descending a Farm 229 

135. A Greman Sabbath » 232 

136. An Object of Sympathy 234 

137. A Xon-Classtcal Style 236 

133. The Traditional Chamois [Full Page] 239 

139. Hunting Chamois the True Way ; 242 

140. Chamois Hunter as Reported [Full Page] 243 

141. Marking Alpenstocks 246 

142. Is She Eighteen or Twenty? 247 

143. I Knew I Wasn't Mistaken 249 

144. Harris Astonished 255 

145. Tail piece 257 

146. The Lion op Lucerne. 259 

147. He Liked Clocks 262 

148. "I Will Tell Tou" 265 

149. Couldn't Wait 266 

150. Didn't Care FOB Style , , 266 

151. A Pair Better Than Four 267 

152. Two Wii.sN't Necessary 267 

153. Just thb Trick 267 

154 Going TO Make Them Stare 268 

155. Not Thrown Away 268 

156. What THE DocTOK Recommended 268 

157. Wanted to Feel Safe ... 269 

158. Preferred TO Tram" on Foot 269 

159. Dern a Dog, Anyway , 270 

160. Tail Piece 271 

161. The Glacier Garden [Full Page] 272 

162. Lake and Mountains (Mont Pilatus) 273 

163. Mountain Paths 274 

164. " You're an American— So Am I " 276 

165. Enterprise 281 

166. The Constant Searcher 281 

167. The Mountain Boy 285 

168. The Englishman 286 

169. The Jodler 288 

170. Another Vocalist 289 

171. The Felsenthok , 290 



VI 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



172. A View FROM THE Station 291 

173. Lost in the Mist 293 

174. The Ktgi-Kulm Hotel • 294 

175. What Awakened Us 296 

176. A Summit SuNKisE [Full Page] 297 

177. Tail Piece 300 

178. Exceedingly Comfortable 302 

179. T HE Sunrise 303 

18:). Thb Rigi-Kulm 305 

181. An Optical Illusion 307 

182. Tail Piece 308 

183. Railway Down the Mountain [Full Page] 309 

184. Source of the Rhone 313 

185. A Glacier Table 314 

186 Glacier OF Grindelwald 317 

187. Dawn on the Mountains 319 

188. Tail Piece 322 

189. New and Old Style 325 

190. St. Nicholas, as a Hermit 325 

191. A Landslide 326 

192. GoLDAU Valley before and after the Landslide 327 

193. The Way They Do It 330 

194. Our Gallant Driver 331 

195. A Mountain Pass [Fiill Page] 332 

196. "Pm Oful Dry " 333 

197. It's the Fashion 334 

198. What We Expecteo 335 

199. We Missed the Scenery [Full Page] 33S 

200. The Tourists [Tail Piece] '. 3;i9 

201. The Young Bride 341 

202. "It was a famous Victory " 342 

203. Promenade in Interlakkn [Full Page] 343 

204. The Junsfrau by M. T 346 

205. street in iNTERLAKEN [FULL PaGK] 349 

206. Without a Courier 851 

207. Traveling WITH a Courier 352 

208. Tail Piece 354 

209. Grape and Whey Patients 357 

210. Sociable Drivers 360 

211. A Mountain Cascade 361 

212. The Gasternthal 362 

213. KXHILAKATING Spokt 363 

214. Falls (Tail Piece] 364 

215. What Might Be 366 

216. An Alpine Bouquet 367 

217. The End of the World 369 

218. The Forget-me-not 371 

219. A Needle op Ice [Full Page] 373 

220. Climbing the Mountain 375 

221. Snow Crevasses '. 376 

222- Cutting Steps 379 

223. The Guide [Tail Piece] 3S0 

224. View FROM the Cliff 382 

225. Gemmi Pass and Lake Daubensee 3P4 

226. Almost a Tragedy 386 

211. The Alpine Litter 387 

228. Social Bathers 588 

229. Death op Countess Herlincourt [Full Page] 389 

230. They've Got It All 392 

231. Model for an Empress 393 

232. Bath Houses at Leuke '. 394 



ILLUSTRATIONS. vii 

233. The Bathers at Letjk3B [FrLL Page] 393 

234. Kathek Mixed Up 399 

235. Tail Piece 400 

236. A Sunday Mokning's Demon 402 

237. Just Saved 406 

238. Scene in "Vallet of Zekmatt LPull Page] 406 

239. Akkital at Zeematt [Full Page] 410 

240. Fitted Out 413 

241. A Feakfdl Fall [Full Page] 415 

242. Tail Piece , 417 

213. All Ready 421 

244. The Makch.. 422 

245. The Cakavan [Full Page] 424 

246. The Hook 427 

247. The Disabled Chaplain 428 

248. Trying Experiments 428 

24'... Saveb! Sated! 430 

250. Twenty Minutes Work 431 

251. The Black Kam 432 

252. The MiPvACLE 433 

253. The New Guide [Tail Piece] 434 

254. Scientific Beseaeches — 436 

255. Mountain Chalet 439 

256. The Grandson 441 

^1. OcCASiONLY Met With 444 

J5S. Summit OF The GoENER Grat - 446 

"!59. Chiefs or the Advance Guard 447 

260. My Picture of the Matteehoen 448 

261. Everybody Had an Excuse 453 

262 Sprung a Leak ^^^ 

263. A Scientific Question 458 

264. A Terminal Moraine 461 

265. Front op Glacier • *''2 

266. An Old Moraine [Full Page] 463 

267. Glacier of Zermatt with Lateral Moraine 465 

268. Unexpected Meeting of Fribnbs 469 

269. Village OF Chamonix 472 

270. The Matterhorn [Full Page] 475 

271. On the Summit -"••• ^'^ 

272. Accident on the Matterhorn (1865) [Full page] 480 

273. Tailpiece, Eoped Together 482 

274. Storage of Ancestors 484 

275. Falling out of his Farm 485 

276. Child Life in Switzerland ..• 48i 

277. A Sunday Play ^^^ 

278 The Combination *^^ 

279. Chillon .••••• • • " *^^ 

280. The Tete Noir ' • ^^^ 

281. Mont Blanc's Neighbors [Full Page] 495 

282. AN Exquisite Thing • *^^ 

283. A Wild Kide ■ • • • ^^' 

284. Swiss Peasant Girl [Tail Piece] • 498 

885. Street in CHAMONixtFuLL Page] 501 



286. The Proud German 

287. The Indignant Tourist. 



504 

505 

288. Music of Switzerland ••••• ^^'^ 

S9. Only a Mistake ■'^^ 

290. A Broad View [Tail Piece] • • ••• 511 

91. Pr'hparing to Start [Full Paget •••••• - ^13 

292. Ascent of Mont Blanc [Full PageI..... • 517 

293. " We All Raised a Tremendous Shout " , • 519 



vui ILLUSTRATIONS. 



294. The Gkands Mtjlets 523 

295. Cabin on the Gkands Mulets , 524 

296. Keeping Wakm 526 

297. Tail Piece 529 

298. TAkE IT East 531 

299. The Mer DE Glaoe (Mont Blanc) [Full Page] 532 

300. Taking Toll 535 

301. A Descending Totjeist 538 

302. Leaving by Diligence , 539 

303. The Satisfied Englishman 540 

304. High pressuke ~ 542 

305. No Apology 544 

306. None Asked .... 544 

307. A Lively Street • 546 

308. Having Her Full Eights 547 

309. How She Fooled Us 549 

310. "You'll Take That or None " 552 

311. Robbing a Beggar [Tail Piece]. 554 

312. Dishonest Italy 556 

313. Stock in Trade •- 556 

314. Style 558 

315. Specimens from Old Masters 559 

816. An Old Master 561 

317. The Lion of St. Mark 562 

318. Oh, To Be At Rest! 563 

319. The World's Masterpiece 565 

320. Tail Piece 566 

321. Aesthetic Tastes 569 

322. A Private Family Breakfast 571 

323. European Carving 573 

324. A Twenty-four hour Fight 585 

325. Great Heidelberg Tun 592 

326. Bismarck in Prison 597 

327. Tail Piece 600 

328. a compietb wobd „.,. 618 



CO:P^TEI^Tg. 



CHAPTEE I. 

A Tramp over Europe — On the Holsatia — Hamburg — Frankfort-on-the- 
Main — How it Won its Name — A Lesson in Political Economy — 
Neatness in Dress — Rhine Legends — " Tlie Knave of Bergen" — 
The Famous Ball — The Strange Knight — Dancing with the Queen 
— Removal of the Masks — The Disclosure — Wrath of the Emperor 

—The Ending 17 

CHAPTER II. 

At Heidelberg — Great Stir at a Hotel — ThePortier — Arrival of the Em- 
press — The Schloss Hotel — Location of Heidelberg — The River 
Neckar — New Feature in a Hotel — Heidelberg Castle — View from 
the Hotel — A Tramp in the Woods — Meeting a Raven — Can Ravens 
Talk ? — Laughed at and Vanquished — Language of Animals — Jim 

Baker — Blue- Jays 22 

CHAPTER III. 

Baker's Blue- Jay Yarn — Jay Language — The Cabin — "Hello, I reckon 
• I've struck something" — A Knot Hole — Attemptto fill it — A Ton of 
Acorns — Friends Called In — A Great Mystery — More Jays Called — 
A Blue Flush — A Discovery — A Rich Joke — One that Couldn't 

See It 38 

CHAPTER IV. 

Student Life— The Five Corps— The Beer King— A Free Life— Attend- 
ing Lectures — An Immense Audience— Industrious Students — 
Politeness of the Students — Intercourse with the Professors — 
Scenes at the Castle Garden — Abundance of Dogs — Symbol of 

Blighted Love — How the Ladies Advertise 43 

CHAPTER V. 

The Students' Dueling Ground— The Dueling Room— The Sword 
Grinder — Frequency of the Duels — The Duelists — Protection 
against Injury — The Surgeon — Arrangements for the Duels — The 
First Duel— The First Wound— A Drawn Battle— The Second Duel 

— Cutting and Slashing — Interference of the Surgeon 51 

CHAPTER VL 

The Third Duel — A Sickening Spectacle — Dinner between Fights — The 
Last Duel — Fighting in Earnest — Faces and Heads Mutilated — 
Great Nerve of the Duelists — Fatal Results not Unfrequent — The 
Worlds View of these Fights 57 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VII. 
Corps-laws and Usages — Volunteering to Fight — Coolness of the 
Wounded— Wounds Honorable — Newly bandaged Students around 
Heidelberg— Scarred Faces Abundant— A Badge of Honor — Prince 
Bismark as a Duelist — Statistics — Constant Sword Practice — Color 
of the Corps — 'Jorps Etiquette 63 

CHAPTER VIII. 
The Great French Duel — Mistaken Notions — Outbreak in the French 
Assembly- — Calmness of M. Gambetta— I Volunteer as Second — 
Drawing up a Will— The Challenge and its Acceptance — Difficulty 
in Selection of Weapons— Deciding on Distance — M. Gambetta's 
Firmness — Arranging Details — Hiring Hearses — How it was Kept 
from the Press— March to the Field — The Post of Danger — The 
Duel — The Result — General Rejoicings — The only One Hurt — A 
Firm Resolution 69 

CHAPTER IX. 
At the Theatre — German Ideal — At the Opera — The Orchestra — Howl- 
ings and Wailings — A Curious Play — One Season of Rest — The 
Wedding Chorus — Germans fond of the Opera — Funerals Needed 
— A R-ivate Party — What I Overheard — A Gentle Girl — A Contri- 
bution-box — Unpleasantly Conspicuous 83 

CHAPTER X. 
Four Hours with Wagner — A Wonderful Singer, Once — "Only a 
Shriek" — An Ancient Vocalist — " He Only Cry " — Emotional Ger- 
mans — A Wise Custom — Late Comers Rebuked — Heard to the Last 
— No Interruptions Allowed — A Royal Audience — An Eccentric 
King — Real Rain and More of It — Immense Success — ''Encore ! 
Encore ! " — Magnanimity of the King 90 

■ CHAPTER XI. 

Lessons in Art — My Great Picture of Heidelberg Castle — Its Effect in the 
Exhibition — Mistaken for a Turner — A Studio — Waiting for Orders 
— A Tramp Decided On — The Start for Heilbronn — Our Walking 
Dress — "Pleasant march to you" — We Take the Rail — German 
People on Board — Not Understood — Speak only German and Eng- 
lish — Wimpfen — A Funny Tower — Dinner in the Garden — Vigorous 
Tramping — Ride in a Peasant's Cart — A Famous Room 100 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Rathhaus — An Old Robber Knight, Gotz Von Berlichingen — His 
Famous Deeds— The Square Tower — A Curious old Church — A 
Gay Turn-out — A Legend — The Wives' Treasures — A Model 
Waiter^-A Miracle Performed — An Old Town — The Worn Stones. 107 



CONTENTS. xi' 

CHAPTER XIII. 

fiarly to Bed— Lonesome — Nervous Excitement — The Room "We Occu- 
pied — Disturbed by a Mouse — Grow Desperate — The old Remedy — 
A Shoe Thrown — Result — Hopelessly Awake — An Attempt to Dress 
— A Cruise in the Dark — Crawling on the Floor — A General Smash- 
up — Forty-seven Miles' Travel 114 

CHAPTER XIV. 

A Famous Turn-out— Raftsmen on the Neckar — The Log Rafts — The 
Neckar — A Sudden Idea — To Heidelberg on a Raft — Chartering a 
Raft — Gloomy Feelings and Conversation — Delicious Journeying 
— View of the Banks — Compared with Railroading ; . . . . 122 

CHAPTER XV. 

Down the River — German Women's Duties— Bathing as. We Went — A 
Handsome Picture : Girls in the Willows — We Sight a Tug— Steam- 
ers on the Neckar — Dinner on Board— Legend "Cave of the 
Spectre" — Lady Gertrude the Heiress — The Crusader — The Lady 
in the Cave — A Tragedy 128 

CHAPTER XVI. 

An Ancient Legend of the Rhine— "The Lorelei" — Count Hermann — 
Falling in Love — A Sight of the Enchantress — Sad Effect on Count 
Hermann — An Evening visit — A Sad Mistake — Count Hermann 
Drowned— The Song and Music — Different Translations — Curi- 
osities in Titles 140 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Another Legend — The Unconquered Monster — The Unknown Knight 
— His Queer Shaped Knapsack — The Knight Pitied and Advised — 
He Attacks the Monster — Victory for the Fire Extinguisher — The 
Knight Rewarded — His Strange Request — Spectacles Made Popu- 
lar — Danger to the Raft — Blasting Rocks— An Inglorious Death in 
View— Escaped— A Storm Overtakes us— Great Danger — Man Over- 
board—Breakers Ahead — Springing a Leak — Ashore Safe — A 
General Embracing— A Tramp in the Dark — The Naturalist Tavern 
—A Night's Troubles— " It is the Cat" 150 

CHAPTER XVin. 

Breakfast in a Garden— The Old Raven— Castle of Hirschhorn — Attempt 
to Hire a Boat — High Dutch — What You Can Find out by Enquir- 
ing — What I Found out about the Students — A good German 
Custom — Harris Practices It — An Embarrassing Position — A Nice 
Party — At a Ball — Stopped at the Door — Assistance at Hand and 
Rendered — Worthy to be an Empress 161 



xii CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Arrive at Neckarsteinach — Castle of Dilsberg— A "Walled Town— On a 
Hill — Exclusiveness of the People— A Queer Old Place— An An- 
cient Well — An Outlet Proved— Legend of Dilsberg Castle — The 
Haunted Chamber— The Betrothed's request— The Knight's Slum- 
bers and Awakening— Horror of the Lover — The Wicked Jest — 
The Lover a Maniac— Under the Linden — Turning Pilot — Accident 

to the Raft— Fearful Disaster 170 

CHAPTER XX. 

Good News — "Slow Freight" — Keramics — My Collection of Bric-a- 
brac— My Tear Jug — Henri II Plate— Specimen of Blue China — 
Indifference to the Laugh of the World— I Discover an Antique — 
En-route to Baden-Baden — Meeting an Old Acquaintance — A young 
American — Embryo Horse Doctor — An /merican, Sure — A Minis- 
ter Captured 184 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Baden-Baden —Energetic Girls — A Comprehensive Yawn — A Beggar's 
Trick — Cool Impudence— The Bath Woman — Insolence of Shop 
Keepers — Taking a Bath — Early and Late Hours — Popular Belief 
Regarding Indians — An Old Cemetery — A Pious Hag — Curious 

Table Companions ' 196 

CHAPTER XXII. 

The Black Forest — A Grandee and his Family — The Wealthy Nabob — 
A New Standard of Wealth— Skeleton for a New Novel — Trying 
Situation — The Common Council — Choosing a New Member — 
Studying Natural History — The Ant a Fraud — Eccentricities of the 
Ant — His Deceit and Ignorance — A German Dish— Boiled Oran- 
ges 207 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Off for a Day's Tramp— Tramping and Talking — Story Telling — Den- 
tistry in Camp — Nicodemus Dodge — Seeking a Situation — A Butt 
for Jokes— Jimmy Finn's Skeleton — Descending a Farm— Unex- 
pected Notoriety 221 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Sunday on the Continent — A Day of Rest — An Incident at Church — 
An Object of Sympathy — Royalty at Church— Public Grounds Con- 
cert — Power and Grades of Music —Hiring a Courier ... 231 

CHAPTER XXV. 
Lucerne -Beauty of its Lake— The Wild Chamois— A Great Error 
Exposed— Methods of Hunting the Chamois— Beauties of Lucerne 
— The Alpenstock — Marking Alpenstocks — Guessing at Nationali- 
ties — An American Party— An Unexpected Acquaintance — Getting 
MixVd Up -Following Blind Trails— A Happy Half-hour— Defeat 
and Revenge 241 



CONTENTS. xiii 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Commerce of Lucerne— Benefits of Martyrdom— A Bit of History — The 
Home of Cuckoo Clocks— A Satisfactory Revenge — The Man Wlio 
Put Up at Gadsby's— A Forgotten Story— Wanted to bo Postmaster 

A Tennessean at Washington— He Concluded to Stay a While 

— Application of the Story. ..„....= „ . . . » 258 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

The Glacier Garden— Excursion on the Lake— Life on the Mountains 
—A Specimen Tourist—" jVhere 're you FromV "—An Advertising 
Dodge— A Righteous Verdict — The Guide-book Student—"! 
Believe that's All "... „ ,.... = . , = 272 

CHAPTER XXVHL 

The Rigi-Kulm — Its Ascent — Stripping for Business — A Mountain Lad 
— An English Tourist — Rail-road up the Mountain — Villages and 
Mountain — The Jodlers — About Ice Water — The Felsenthor — Too 
Late — Lost in the Fog — The Rigi-Kulm Hotel — The Alpine Horn 
— Sunrise at Night ...... o ,„. = .. , o o ..... o 284 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

Everything Convenient— Looking for a Western Sunrise — Mutual Re- 
crimination — View from the Summit — Down the Mountain — Rail- 
roading—Confidence Wanted and Acquired 301 

CHAPTER XXX. 

A Trip by Proxy — A Visit to the Furka Regions^Deadman's Lake — 
Source of the Rhone — Glacier Tables — Storm in the Mountains — 
At Grindelwald — Dawn on the Mountains— An Explanation Requir- 
ed — Dead Language — Criticism of Harris's Report . 311 

CHAPTER XXXI 

Preparations for a Tramp — From Lucerne to Interlaken — The Brtlnig 
Pass — Modern and Ancient Chalets — Death of Pontius Pilate — 
Hermit Home of St Nicholas— Landslides — Children Selling Re- 
freshments — How they Harness a Horse — A Great Man — Honors 
to a Hero— A Thirsty Bride — For Better or Worse — German Fash- 
ions — Anticipations — Solid Comfort — An Unsatisfactory Awaken- 
ing — What we had Lost— Our Surroundings 323 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

The Jungfrau Hotel — A Whiskered Waitress — An Arkansas Bride — 
Perfection in Discord — A Famous Victory — A Look from a Window 
— About the Jungfrau . . o 340 



xiTT CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

The Giesbach Falls— The Spirit of the Alps— Why People Visit Them 
—Whey and Grapes as Medicines — The Kursaal — A JFormidable 
Undertaking— From Interlaken to ZermattonFoot— We Concluded 
to take a Buggy — A Pair of Jolly Drivers— We meet with Com- 
panions — A Cheerful Hide — Kandersteg Valley — An Alpine Parlor 
— Exercise and Amusement — A Race with a Log. 355 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

An Old Guide — Possible Accidents — Dangerous Habitation — Mountain 
Flowers — Embryo Lions — Mountain Pigs — The End of uhe World 
— Ghastly Desolation — Proposed Adventure — Readingup Advent- 
ures — Ascent of Monte Rosa — Precipices and Crevasses — Among 
the Snows — Exciting Experiences — Ice Ridges — The Summit — 
Adventures Postponed. oo, , ,o . » .. o . .<. 365 

':!HAPTER XXXV. 

A New Interest — ^Magnificent Views — A Mule's Preferences — -Turuing 
Mountain Corners — Terror of a Horse — Lady Tourists — Death of 
r- young Countess— A Search for a Hat — AVhat We Did Find — Har- 
ris's Opinion of Chamois — A Disappointed Man — A Giantess — Model 
for an Empress — Baths at Leuk— Sport in the Water — The Gem- 
mi Precipices — A Palace for an Emperor — The Famous Ladders 
— Considerably Mixed Up — Sad ^light of a Minister „ 381 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Sunday Church Bells — A Cause of Profanity — A Magnificent Glacier — 
Fault Finding by Harris — Almost an Accident — Selfishness of Har- 
ris — Approaching Zermatt — The Matterhorn — Zern^att — Home of 
Mountain Climbers — Fitted outfor Climbing — A Fearful Adventure 
— Never Satisfied 401 

CHAPTER XXXVIT. 

A Calm Decision — " I Will Ascend the Riffelberg" — Preparations for 
the Trip — All Zermatt on the Alert — Schedule of Persons and 
Things — An Unprecedented Display — A General Turn-out — Ready 
tor a Start — The Post of Danger — The Advance Directed — Grand 
Display of Umbrellas— The First Camp — Almost a Panic— Sup- 
posed to be Lost — The First Accident — A Chaplain Disabled— An 
Experimenting Mule — Good Effects of a Blunder — Badly Lost — A 
Reconnoiter — Mystery and Doubt — Stern Measures Taken — A 
Black Ram — Saved by a Miracle — The Guide's Guide 418 



CONTENTS. XV 

. CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
Our Expedition Continued— Experiments with the Barometer — Boil- 
ing Thermometer— Barometer Soup— An Interesting Scientific Dis- 
covery—Crippling a Latinist— A Chaplain Injured— Short of Bar- 
keepers—Digging a Mountain Cellar — A Young American Speci- 
men — Somebody's Grandson— Arrival at Eiffel berg Hotel — Ascent 

of Gorner Grat —Faith in Thermometers— The Matterhorn 435 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Guide Books — Plans for the Return of the Expedition — A Glacier Train 

Parachute Descent from Gorner Grat — Proposed Honors to Harris 
Declined — All had an Excuse — A Magnificent Idea Abandoned — 
Descent to the Glacier— A Supposed Leak — A Slow Train — The 
Glacier Abandoned— Journey to Zermatt— A Scientific Question. . 450 
CHAPTER XL. 
Glaciers — Glacier Perils — Moraines — Terminal Moraines — Lateral Mo- 
raines — Immense Size of Glacier — Traveling Glacier — General 
Movements of Glaciers — Ascent of Mont Blanc — Loss of Guides — 
Finding of Remains — Meeting of Old Friends — The Dead and Liv- 
ing— ^Proposed Museum — The Relics at Chamonix 459 

CHAPTER XLL 
The Matterhorn Catastrophe of 1865— Mr. Whymper"s Narrative—Ascent 
of the Matterhorn — The Summit — The Matterhorn Conquered — 
The Descent Commenced — A Fearful Disaster — Death of Lord 

Douglas and Two Others — The Graves of the Two 473 

CHAPTER XLII. 
Switzerland— Graveyard at Zermatt — Balloting for Marriage — Farmers 
as Heroes — Falling off a Farm — From St. Nicholas to Visp — Dan- 
gerous Traveling — Children's Play — The Parson's Children — A 
Landlord's Daughter— A Rare Combination — Chillon — Lost Sympa- 
thy — Mont Blanc and its Neighbors — Beauty of Soap Bubbles — A 

Wild Drive — The King of Drivers — Benefit of getting Drunk 483 

CHAPTER XLIII. 
Chamonix — Contrasts — Magnificent Spectacle — The Guild of Guides — • 
The Guide-in-Chief — The Returned Tourist— Getting Diploma- 
Rigid Rules — Unsuccessful Efforts to Procure a Diploma — The Re- 
cord Book — The Conqueror of Mont Blanc— Professional Jealousy 

— Triumph of Truth— Mountain Music — Its Effect A Hunt for a 

Nuisance 499 

CHAPTER XLIV. 
Looking at Mont Blanc — Telescopic Effect — A Proposed Trip — Deter- 
mination and Courage — The Cost all counted— Ascent of Mont Blanc 
by Telescope — Safe and Rapid Return^^Diplomas Asked for and 
Refused— Disaster of 1866 -The Brave Brothers — "Wonderful En- 
durance and Pluck — Love Making on Mont Blanc — First Ascent 
of a Woman — Sensible Attire. 612 



xvi CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XLV. 

A Catastrophe wMch Cost Eleven Lives — Accident of 1870 — A Party of 
Eleven — A Fearfiil Storm — Note-books of the Victims — Within 

Five Minutes of Safety — Facing Death Resignedly 527 

CHAPTER XLVI. 

The Hotel des Pyramids — The Glacier des Bossons — One of the Shows 
— Premeditated Crime — Saved Again — Tourists Warned — Advice 
to Tourists — The Two Empresses — The Glacier Toll Collector — 
Pure Ice Water — Death Rate of the World — Of Various Cities — A 
Pleasure Excursionist — A Diligence Ride — A Satisfied Englishman. 530 
CHAPTER XLVII. 

Geneva — Shops of Geneva — Elasticity of Prices — Persistency of Shop 
Women — The High Pressure System — How a Dandy was brought to 
Grief — American Manners — Gallantry — Col. Baker of London — . 
Arkansaw Justice — Safety of Women in America — Town of Cham- 
bery — A Lively Place — At Turin — A Railroad Companion — An In- 
sulted Woman — City of Turin — Italian Honesty — A Small Mistake 
— Robbing a Beggar Woman 541 

CHAPTER XLVIH. 
In Milan— The Arcade— Incidents we Met With— The Pedlar— Child- 
ren — The Honest Conductor — Heavy Stocks of Clothing — The Quar- 
relsome Italians — Great Smoke and Little Fire — The Cathedral — 
Style in Church — The Old Masters — Tintoretto's great Picture — 
Emotional Tourists — Basson's Famed Picture — The Hair Trunk. . 555 

CHAPTER XLIX. 
inVenice — St. Mark's Cathedral — Discovery of an Antique — The Rich- 
es of St. Mark's — A Church Robber — Trusting Secrets to a Friend 

— The Robber Hanged — A Private Dinner — European Food 567 

CHAPTER L. 
Why Some things Are — Art in Rome and Florence — The Fig Leaf Ma- 
nia — ^Titian's Venus — Difference between Seeing and Describing — 
A Real work of Art — Titian's Moses — Home 577 

APPENDIX. 

A.— The Portier analyzed 582 

B. — Hiedelberg Castle Described 587 

C— The College Prison and Inmates .' 594 

D. — The Awful German Language 601 

E.— Legends of the Castle.'. 620 

F. — The Journals of Germany 626 




THE AUTHOR'S MEMORIES. 



CHAPTEE I 

OTsTE day it occurred to me that it had been many years 
since the world had been afforded the spectacle of a 
man adventurous enough to undertake a journey through 
Europe on foot. After much thought, I decided that I was 
a person fitted to furnish to mankind this spectacle. So I 
determined to do it. This was in March, .1878. 

I looked about me for the right sort of person to accom- 
pany me in the capacity of agent, and finally hired a Mr. 
Harris for this service. 

It was also my purpose to study art while in Europe. Mr. 
Harris was in sympathy with me in this. He was as much, 
of an enthusiast in art as I waSj and not less anxious to learn^ 
to paint, I desired to learn the German language; so did; 
Harris. 

Toward the middle of April we sailed in the Ilolsatia,. 
Capt. Brandt, and had a very pleasant trip indeed. 

After a brief rest at Hamburg, we made preparations for 
a long pedestrian trip southward in the soft spring weather, 
but at the last moment we changed the program, for private 
reasons, and took the express train. 

We made a short halt at Frankfort-on-the-Main, and found' 
it an interesting city. I would have liked to visit tire birth--- 
place of Guttenberg, but it could not be done, as no memo- 
randum of the site of the house has been kept. So we spent' 

17 



18 FRANKFORT. 

an hour in tlie Goethe mansion instead. The city permits 
this house to belong to private parties, instead of gi acing and 
dignifying herself with the honor of posses-sing and piotect- 
ing it. 

Frankfort is one of the sixteen cities which have the distinc- 
tion of being the place where the following incident occurred. 
Charlemagne, while chasing the Saxons, (as he said,) or being 
chased by tliem, (as they said,) arrived at the lank of tl e 
river at dawn, in a fog. The enemy were either before him 
or behind him ; but in any case he wanted to get across, very 
badly. He would have given anything for a guide, but noi:e 
was to be had. Presently he saw a deer, followed by Ltr 
young, approach the water. lie watched hei', judging that 
she would seek a ford, and lie was right. She waded over, 
and the army followed. So a great Frankish victoiy or de- 
feat was gained or avoided; and in oi'der to comniemorate 
the episode, Ciiarlemagne commanded a city to be built there, 
which he named Frankfort, — the ford of the Franks. JNoiie 
of the other cities where tins event happened were named 
from it. This is good evidence that Frankfort was the fii'st 
place it occurred at. 

Frankfort has another distinction, — it is the biilhplace of 
the German alphabet : or at least of the German M'ord for 
alphabet, — Buchstahen. Tliey say that the first movable t3'pes 
were made on birch sticks, — Buchstabe^ — lience the name. 

I was taught a lesson in political economy in Frankfort. 
I had brought from home a box containing a thousand veiy 
cheap cigars. By way of experiment, I stepped into a little 
shop in a queer old back street, took four gaily decorated 
boxes of wax matches and three cigars, and laid down a silver 
piece M'orth 48 cents. The man gave me 43 cents change. 

In Frankfort everybody wears clean clothes, and I think 
we noticed that this strange thing was the case in Hamburg 
too, and in the villages along the road. Even in the narrow- 
est and poorest and most ancient quarters of Frankfort neat 
and clean clothes were the rule. The little children of both 
sexes were nearly always nice enough to take into a body's 



RHINE LEGENDS. 19 

lap. And as for the uniforms of the soldiers, they were 
newness and brightness carried to perfection. One could 
never detect a smirch or a grain of dust upon them. The 
street car conductors and drivers wore pretty uniforms which 
seemed to be just out of the bandbox, and their manners 
were as fine as their clothes. 

In one of the shops I had the luck to stumble upon a book 
which has charmed me nearly to death. It is entitled " The 
Legends of the Rhine from Basle to Rotterdam, by F. J. 
Kiefer ; Translated by L. W. Garnham, B. A." 

All tourists mention the Rhine legends, — in that sort of way 
which quietly pretends that the mentioner has been familiar 
with them all his life, and that the reader cannot possibly be 
ignorant of them, — but no tourist ever tells them. So this lit- 
tle book fed me in a very hungry place ; and I, in my turn, 
intend to feed my reader, with one or two little lunches from 
the same larder. I shall not mar Garnham's translation by 
meddling with its English ; for the most toothsome thing 
about it is its quaint fashion of building English sentences on 
the German plan, — and punctuating them according to no 
plan at all. 

In the chapter devoted to "Legends of Frankfort," I find 
the following : 

" THE KNAVE OF BERGEN." 

"In Frankfort at the Romer was a great mask-ball, at the 
coronation festival, and in the illuminated saloon, the clang- 
ing music invited to dance, and splendidly appeared the rich 
toilets and charms of the ladies, and the festively costumed 
Princes and Knights. All seemed pleasure, joy, and roguish 
gayety, only one of the numerous guests had a gloomy exte- 
rior; but exactly the black armor in which he walked about 
excited general attention, and his tall figure, as well as the 
noble propriety of his movera3nts, attracted especially 
the regards of the ladies. "Who the Knight was? Nobody 
could guess, for his Yizier was well closed, and nothing made 
him recognizable. Proud and yet modest he advanced to 
the Empress ; bowed on one knee before her seat, and begged 



20 



THE KNAVE OF BERGEN. 



for the favor of a waltz with the Queen of the festival. And 
she allowed his request. With light and graceful steps he 
danced through the long saloon, with the sovereign who 
thought never to have found a more dexterous and excellent 
dancer. But also by the grace of his niMnner, and line con- 
versation he knew to win the 
Queen, and she graciously accord- 
ed him a second dance for which 
he begged, a third, and a fourth, 
as well as others were not refused 
him. How all regarded the happy 
dancer, how many envied him the 
high favor; how increased curiosi 
ty, who the masked knight could be. 
Also the Emperor became more 
and more excited with curios- 
ity, and with great suspense one 
awaited the hour, when according 
to mask-law, each masked guest must make himself known. 
This moment came, but although all others had unmasked ; 
the secret knight still refused to allow his features to be seen, 
till at last the Queen driven by curiosity, and vexed at the 
obstinate refusal ; commanded him to open his Vizier. He 




THE BLACK KNIGHT. 




OPENING HIS VIZIEK. 



opened it, and none of the higli ladies and knights knew 
him. Bnt from the crowded spectators, 2 officials advanced, 



SUCCESS OF THE KNAVE. 



21 




who recognized the black dancer, and horror and terror 
spread in the saloon, as they said who the supposed knight 
was. It was the executioner of Bergen. But glowing with 
rasre, the Kinff commanded to seize the criminal and lead him 
to death, who had ventured to 
dance, with the queen ; so dis- 
graced the Empress, and in- 
sulted the crown. The culpa- 
ble threw himself at the feet 
of the Em|)eror, and said, — 

" ' Indeed I have heavily 
sinned against all noble 
gruests assembled here, but 
most heavily against you my 
sovereign and my queen. 
The Queen is insulted by 
my haughtiness equal to 
treason, but no punishment 
even blood, will not be able 
to wash out the disgrace, 
which you have suffered by me. Therefore oh Khig ! allow 
me to propose a remedy, to efface the shame, and to render it 
as if not done. Draw your sword and knight me, then I will 
throw down my gauntlet, to every one who dares to speak 
disrespectfully of my king. 

" The Emperor was surprised at this bold proposal, however 
it appeared the wisest to him ; " You are a knave he replied 
after a moment's consideration, however your advice is good, 
and displays prudence, as your offense shows adventurous 
courage. Well then, and gave him the knight-stroke, so I 
raise you to nobility, who begged for grace for your offence 
now kneels bafore me, rise as knight ; knavish you have acted, 
and Knave of Bergen shall 3^ou be called henceforth, and 
gladly the Black knight rose ; three cheers were given in 
honor of the Emperor, and loud cries of joy testified the 
approbation with which the Queen danced still once with the 
Knave of Bergen. 



THE ENKAGED EMPEROR. 



~^ 



CHAPTER II. 



HEIDELBEBG. 



WE stopped at a hotel by the railway station. Next 
morning, as we sat in my room waiting for breakfast 
to come up, we got a good deal interested in something 
which was going on over the way, in front of another hotel. 
First, the personage who is called the ^ortier, (who is not 
the porter, bnt is a sort of first-mate of a hotel,) * appeared 
at the door in a spick and span new blue cloth uniform, 
decorated with shining brass buttons, and with bands of 
gold lace around his cap and wristbands ; and lie wore white 
gloves, too. He shed an official glance upon the situation, 
and then began to give orders. Two women servants came 
out with pails and -brooms and brushes, and gave the side- 
walk a thorough scrubbing ; meanwhile two others scrubbed 
the four marble steps which led up to the door ; beyond these 
we could see some men-servants taking up the carpet of the 
grand staircase. This carpet was carried away and the last 
grain of dust beaten and banged and swept out of it ; then 
brought back and put down again. The brass stair rods 
received an exhaustive polishing and were returned to their 
places. Kow a troop of servants brought pots and tubs of 
blooming plants and formed them into a beautiful jungle 
about the door and the base of the staircase. Other servants 



**See Appendix A. oo 



GREAT PREPARATIONS. 



23 



adorned all the balconies of the various stories with flow- 
ers and biniiers ; others ascended to the roof and hoisted 
a great flag on a staff there. Now carae some more chamber- 
maids and retouched tlie sidewalk, and afterwards wiped the 
marble steps with damp cloths and flnished by dusting them 

off' with feather brushes. Isow 
a broad black carpet was 
brought out and laid down the 
marble steps and out across the 
sidewalk to the curbstone. 
Tiie portier cast his eye along 
it, and found it was not abso- 
lutely straight; he commanded 
it to be straightened ; the ser- 
vants made the effort, — made 
several efforts, in fact,— but the 
jjortier was not satisfied. He 
finally had it taken up, and 
then he put it down himself 
and got it right. 

At this stage of the proceed- 
ings, a narrow bright red carpet 
was unrolled and stretched from 
(l! the top of the marble steps to 
the curbstone, along the center 
of the black carpet. This red 
path cost the portier more 
trouble than even the black one had done. But he patiently 
fixed and re-fixed it until it was exactly right and lay precisely 
in tlie middle of the black carpet. In New York these per- 
formances would have gathered a mighty crowd of curious 
and intensely interested spectators; but here it only captured 
an audience" of half-a-dozen little boys, who stood in a row 
across the pavement, some with their school knapsacks on 
their backs and their hands in their pockets, others with arms 
full of bundles, and all absorbed in the show. Occasionally 




THT PORTIEK. 



24 



LANDING A MONARCH. 




one of tlieni skipped irreverently over the carpet and 
took up a position on the other side. This always visibly 

annoyed the portier. 

Now came a waiting 
interval. The landlord, 
in plain clothes, and 
bareheaded, placed him- 
self on the bottom mar- 
ble step, abreast the 
portier, who stood on 
the other end of the 
■ <v, ^ same steps ; six or eight 
T^' waiters, gloved, bare- 
ONE OF THOSE BOYS. headed, and wearing 

their whitest linen, their whitest cravats, and their finest swal- 
low-tails, grouped themselves about these chiefs, but leaving 
the carpet-way clear. Nobody moved or spoke any more 
but only waited. 

In a short time the shrill piping of a coming train was 
heard, and immediately groups of people began to gather in 
the street. Two or three open carriages arrived, and depos- 
ited some maids of honor and some male officials at the 
hotel. Presently another open carriage brought the Grand 
Duke of B iden, a stately man in uniform, who wore the 
handsome brass-mounted, steel-spiked helmet of the army on 
his head. Last came the Empress of Germany and the Grand 
Duchess of Baden in a close carriage; these passed through 
the low-bowing groups of servants and disappeared in the 
hotel, exhibiting to us only the backs of their heads, and then 
the show was over. 

It appears to be as difficult to land a monarch as it is to 
launch a ship. 

But as to Heidelberg. The weatlier was growing pretty 

warm, — very warm, in fact. So we left the valley and took 

quarters at the Schloss Hotel, on the hill, above the Castle. 

Heidelberg lies at the mouth of a nnrrow fforge — a gorsre 

the shape of a shepherd's crook; if one looks up it he 



.^.t^...._ JL.,.-:7r)^j^!*^"^ 







SCHLOSS HOTEL nRlDELBERQ. 



HEIDELBERG. 27 

perceives tliat it is about straight, for a mile and a half, then 
makes a sharp curve to the right and disappears. This gorge, 
— along whose bottom pours the swift Neckar, — is contined 
between (or cloven through) a couple of long, steep ridges, a 
thousand feet high and densely wooded clear to their summits, 
with the exception of one section which has been shaved 
and put under^cultivation. These ridges are chopped oil" at 
the mouth of the gorge and form two bold and conspicuous 
headlands, with Heidelberg nestling between them ; from 
their bases spreads away the vast dim expanse of the Rhine 
valley, and into this expanse the I^eckar goes wandering in 
shining curves and is presently lost to view. 

l^ow if one turns and looks up tlie gorge once more, he 
will see the Schloss hotel on the right, perched on a preci- 
pice overlooking the Neckar, — a precipice which is so sump- 
tuously cushioned and draped with foliage that no glimpse 
of the rock appears. The building seems very airily situated. 
It has the appearance of being on a shelf half way up the 
wooded mountain side; and as it is remote and isolated, 
and very white, it makes a strong mark against the lofty 
leafy rampart at its back. 

This hotel had a feature which was a decided novelty ; and 
one which might be adopted with advantage by any house 
which is perched in a commanding situation. This feature 
may be described as a series of glass-enclosed parlors cling- 
ing to the outside of the house, one against each and every 
bedchamber and drawing-room. They are like long, narrow, 
high-ceiled bird-cages hung against the building. My room 
was a corner room, and had two of these things, a north one 
and a west one. 

From the north cage one looks up the Neckar gorge ; from 
the west one he looks down it. This last affords the most 
extensive view, and it is one of the loveliest that can be 
imagined, too. Out of a billowy upheaval of vivid green 
foliage, a rifle-shot removed, rises the huge ruin of Heidel- 
berg Castle, * with empty window arches, ivy-mailed battle- 
ments, moldering towers — the Lear of inanimate nature, — 

* See Appendix B, 



28 



HEIDELBERG CASTLE. 



deserted, discrowned, beaten by the storms, but royal still, 
and beautiful. It is a fine sight to see the evening sunlight 




IN MY CAGE. 

suddenly strike the leafy declivity at the Castle's base and 
dash up it and drench it as with a luminous spray, while the 
adjacent groves are in deep shadow. 

Behind the Castle swells a great dome-shaped hill, forest- 
clad, and beyond that a nobler and loftier one. The Castle 
looks down upon the compact brown-roofed town ; and from 
the town two picturesque old bridges span the river. Now 
the view broadens; through the gateway of the sentinel 
headlands you gaze out over the wide Rhine plain, which 
stretches away, softly and richly tinted, grows gradually and 
dreamily indistinct, and finally melts imperceptibly into the 
remote horizon. 

I have never enjoyed a view which had such a serene and 
satisfying charm about it as this one gives. 

The first night we were there, we went to bed and to 
sleep early ; but I awoke at the end of two or three hours, 
and lay a comfortable while listening to the soothing patter 
of the rain against the balcony windows. I took it to be 



HEIDELBERG BY NIGHT. 31 

rain, but it turned out to be only tbe murmur of the rest- 
less Neckar, tumbling over her dikes and dams far below, in 
the gorge. I got up and went into the west balcony and 
saw a wonderful sight. Away down on the level, under the 
black mass of the Castle, the town lay, stretched along the 
river, its intricate cobweb of streets jeweled with twinkling 
lights; there were rows of lights on the bridges; these flung 
lances of light upon the water, in the black shadows of the 
arches ; and away at the extremity of all this fairy spectacle 
blinked and glowed a massed multitude of gas jets which 
seemed to cover acres of ground; it was as if all the dia- 
monds in the world had been spread out there. I did not 
know before, that a half mile of sextuple railway tracks could 
be made such an adornment. 

One thinks Heidelberg by day — with its surroundings — is 
the last possibility of the beautiful ; but when he sees Hei- 
delberg by night, a fallen Milky Way, Avitli that glittering 
railway constellation pinned to the border, he requires time 
to consider upon the verdict. 

One never tires of poking about in the dense woods that 
clothe all these lofty Neckar hills to their tops. The great 
deeps of a boundless forest have a beguiling and impressive 
charm in any country ; but German legends and fairy tales 
have given these an added charm. They have peopled all 
that region with gnomes, and dwarfs, and all sorts of mys- 
terious and uncanny creatures. At the time I am writing of, 
I had been reading so much of this literature that sometimes 
I was not sure but I was beginning to believe in the gnomes 
and fairies as realities. 

One afternoon I got lost in the woods about a mile from 
the hotel, and presently fell into a train of dreamy thought 
about animals which talk, and kobolds, and enchanted folk, 
and the rest of the jjleasant legendary stuff; and so, by stim- 
ulating my fancy, I finally got to imagining I glimpsed small 
flitting shapes here and there down the columned aisles of the 
forest. It was a place which was peculiarly meet for the 
occasion. It was a pine wood, with so thick and soft a carpet 



32 INTERVIEWED BY A RAVEN. 

of brown needles that one's footfall made no more sound 
than if he was treading on wool ; the tree-tnmks were as 
round and straight and smooth as pillai's, and stood close 
together ; thej were bare of branches to a point about twenty- 
five feet above ground, and from there upward so thick with 
boughs that not a ray of sunlight could pierce through. The 
world was bright with sunshine outside, but a deep and mel- 
low twilight reigned in there, and also a silence so profound 
that I seemed to hear my own breathings. 

When I had stood ten minutes, thinking and imagining, 
and getting my spirit in tune with the place, and in the right 
mood to enjoy the supernatural, a raven suddenly uttered a 
hoarse croak over my head. It made me start; and then I 
was angry because I started. I looked up, and the creature 
was sitting on a limb right over me, looking down at me. I 
felt something of the same sense of humiliation and injury 
which one feels when he finds that a human stranger has 
been clandestinely inspecting him in his privacy and men- 
tally commenting upon him. I eyed the raven, and the raven 
eyed me. ISTothing was said during some seconds. Then 
the bird stepped a little way along his limb to get a better 
point of observation, lifted his wings, stuck his head far 
down below his shoulders toward me, and croaked again — a 
croak with a distinctly insulting expression about it. If he 
had spoken in English he could not have said any more 
plainly than he did say in raven, " Well, what do you want 
here?" I felt as foolish as if 1 had been caught in some 
mean act by a responsible being, and reproved for it. How- 
ever, I made no reply ; I would not bandy words with a raven. 
The adversary waited a while, with his shoulders still lifted, 
his head thrust down between them, and his keen bright eye 
fixed on me ; then he threw out two or three more insults, 
which I could not understand, further than that I knew a 
portion of them consisted of language not used in church. 

I still made no reply. ITow the adversary raised his head 
and called. There was an answering croak from a little 
distance in the wood, — evidently a croak of inquiry. The 







EEIDELIiURG CASTLE. RIVER FRONTAGE 



A DECIDED DEFEAT. 



35 



adversary explained with enthusiasm, and the other raven 
dropped everything and came. The two sat side bj side on 
the limb and discussed me as freely and offensively as two 




THE RETREAT. 



great naturalists might discuss a new kind of bug. The 
thing became more and more embarrassing. They called in 
another friend. This was too ijiuch. I saw that they had 
the advantage of me, and so I concluded to get out of the 
scrape by walking out of it. They enjoj^ed my defeat as 
much as any low white people could have done. They era, 
ned their necks and laughed at me, (for a raven can laugh, 
just like a man,) they squalled insulting remarks after me as 
long as they could see me. They were nothing but ravens 
— I knew that, — what they thought about me could be a 
matter of no consequence, — and yet when even a raven 
shouts after you, " What a hat ! " " O, pull down your vest ! " 
and that sort of thing, it hurts you and humiliates you, and 
there is no getting around it with fine reasoning and pretty 
arguments. 



36 



LAKGUAGE OF ANIMALS. 



Animals talk to each other, of course. There can be no 
question about that ; but I suppose there are very few peo- 
ple who can understand them. I never knew but one man 
who could. I knew lie could, however, because he told me 
so himself. He was a middle-aged, simple-hearted miner 
who had lived in a lonely corner of California, among the 
woods and mountains, a good many years, and had studied 
the ways of his only neighbors, the beasts and the birds, 
until he believed he could accurately translate any remark 
which they made. This was Jim Baker. According to Jim 

Baker, some animals have only 
a limited education, and use only 
very simple words, and scarcely 
ever a comparison or a flowery 
figure ; whereas, certain other 
animals have a large vocabulary, 
a fine command of language 
and a ready and fluent delivery ; 
consequentl}^ these latter talk 
a great deal ; they like it ; they 
are conscious of their talent, 
and they enjoy "showii-ig ofiP." 
Baker said, that after long and careful observation, he had 
come to the conclusion that the blue-jays were the best talk- 
ers he had found among birds and beasts. Said he : — 

" There's more to a blue-jay than any other creature. He 
has got more moods, and more different kinds of feelings 
than other creature; and mind you, whatever a blue-jay 
feels, he can put into language. And no mere common- 
place language, either, but rattling, out-and-out book-talk — 
and bristling Avith metaphor, too— just bristling! And as 
for command of language— why you never see a blue-jay 
get stuck for a word. No man ever did. They just boil 
out of him! And another thing: I've noticed a good 
deal, and there's no bird, or cow, or anything that uses as 
good grammar as a blue-jay. You mav say a cat uses 
good grammar. Well, a cat does— but you let a cat get 




BLUE-JAYS AS TALKERS. 37 

excited, once ; you let a cat get to j)iilliiig fur with another 
cat on a shed, nights, and you'll hear grammar that will give 
you the lockjaw. Ignorant people think it's the noise which 
lighting cats make that is so aggravating, but "it ain't so; it's 
tlie sickening grammar they use. Now I've never heard a 
jay use bad grammar but very seldom ; and w'hen they d<^, 
they are as ashamed as a human ; they shut right down ai.d 
leave. 

" You may call a jay a bird. "Well, so he is, in a measure 
— because he's got feathers on him, and don't belong to no 
church, perhaps; but otherwise he is just as much a human 
as you be. And I'll tell you for why. A jay's gifts, and 
instincts, and feelings, and interests, cover the whole ground. 
A jay hasn't got any more principle than a Congressman. 
A jay will li*?, a jay will steal, a jay Avill deceive, a jay will 
betray ; and four times out of five, a jay w^ill go back on his 
solemnest promise. The sacredness of an obligation is a 
thing w^hicli you can't cram into no blue-jay's head. Now 
on top of all this, there's another thing : a jay can ont-swear 
any gentleman in the mines. You think a cat can swear. 
"Well, a cat can ; but you give a blue-jay a subject that calls 
for his reserve-powers, and where is your cat? Don't talk 
to me — I know too much about this thing. And there's yet 
another thing : in the one little particular of scolding— just 
good, clean, out-and-out scolding — a blue-jay can lay over 
anything, human or divine. Yes, sir, a jay is everything 
that a man is. A jay can cry, a jay can laugh, a jay can fee 
shame, a jay can reason and plan and discuss, a jay likes 
gossip and scandal, a jay has got a sense of humor, a jay 
knows when he is an ass just as well as you do — maybe better. 
If a jay ain't human, he better take in his sign, that's all. 
Now I'm going to tell you a perfectly true fact about some 
blue- jays." 



CHAPTER III. 



BAKEK S BLUE-JAY YAEN. 



^^"^XTIIEIST I first begun to understand jay language cor- 
T T rectlj, there was a little incident happened here. 
Seven years ago, the last man in this region but me, moved 
away. There stands liis house, — been empty ever since; a 
log house, with a plank roof — just one big room, and no 
more; no ceiling — nothing between the rafters and the floor. 
Well, one Sunday morning I was sitting out here in front of 
my cabin, with ray cat, taking the sun, and looking at the blue 
hills, and listening to the leaves rustling so lonely in the 
trees, and thinking of the home aw^ay yonder in the States, 
that I hadn't heard from in thirteen years, when a blue jay lit 
on that house, with an acorn in his mouth, and says, ' Hello, 
I reckon I've struck something.' When he spoke, the acorn 
dropped out of his mouth and rolled down the roof, of course, 
but he didn't care; his mind was all on the thing he had 
struck. It was a knot-hole in the roof. He cocked his head 
to one side, shut one eye and put the other one to the hole, 
like a ' possum looking down a jug ; then he glanced up 
with his bright eyes, gave a wink or two with his wings — 
which signifies gratification, you understand, — and says, 'It 
looks like a hole, it's located like a hole, — blamed if I don't 
believe it is a hole ! ' 
"Then he cocked his head down and took another look ; he 
glances up perfectly joyful, this time; winks his wings and 

38 



STRUCK SOMETHING. 39 

his tail both, and says, ' O, no, this ain't no fat thing, 1 
reckon ! If I ain't in luck ! — why it's a perfectly elegant 
hole ! ' So he flew down and got that acorn, and fetched it 
up and dropped it in, and was just tilting his head back, with 
the heavenliest smile on his face, when all of a sudden he was 
.paralyzed into a listening attitude and that smile faded grad- 
ually out of his countenance like breatli off'n a razor, and the 
queerest look of surprise took its place. Then he says, ' Why 
I didn't hear it fall ! ' He cocked his eye at the hole again, 
and took a long look ; raised up and shook his head ; stepped 
around to the other side of the hole and took another look 
from that side ; shook his head again. He studied a while, 
then he just went into the ^Zetails — w^alked round and round 
the hole and spied into it from every point of the compass. 
No use. ll^ow he took a thinking attitude on the comb of 
the roof and scratched the back of his head with his rio'ht 
foot a minute, and finally says, ' "Well, it's too many for 
7ne, that's certain ; must be a mighty long hole ; however, I 
ain't got no time to fool around here, I got to ' tend to 
business ; I reckon it's all right — chance it, anyway. ' 

" So he flew off and fetched another acorn and dropped it 
in, and tried to flirt his eye to the hole quick enough to see 
what become of it, but he was too late. He held his eye 
there as much as a minute; then he raised up and sighed, 
and says, ' Consound it, I don't seem to understand this 
thing, no way ; however, I'll tackle her again. ' He fetched 
another acorn, and done his level best to see what become 
of it, but he couldn't. He says, 'Well, / never struck no 
such a hole as this, before; I'm of the opinion it's a totallv 
new kind of a hole. ' Then he begun to get mad. He held 
in for a spell, walking up and down the comb of the roof 
and shaking his head and muttering to himself; but his feel- 
ings got the upper hand of him, presently, and he broke 
loose and cussed himself black in the face. I never see a 
bird take on so about a little thing. When he got through 
he walks to the hole and looks in again for half a minute; 
then he says, ' Well, you're a long hole, and a deep hole, 



40 



TWO TONS OF ACORNS. 



^ 



and a miglitj singular liole altogether — but I've started in to 
fill you, and I'm d — d if I donH fill you, if it takes a hundred 
years ! ' 
"And with that, away he went. You never see a bird work 
so since you was born. He laid into his work like a nigger, 
and the way he hove acorns into that hole for about two 
hours and a half was one x x^ ,v-"\^ ^ :-^ - 

of the most exciting and W^/cYryp^^'-^-^'Z-^ X ^ " " ^^ 
astonishing spectacles I ij''^*'^ ^"" ^^/^>-c 
ever struck. He never y 
stopped to take a look any \ 
more — he just hove ' era. 
in and went for more 
Well at last he could hardly flop 
his wings, he was so tuckered out. 
He comes a-drooping down, once more, 
sweating like an ice-pitcher, drops his 
acorn in and says, ' Novo I guess I've got 
the bulge on you by this time!' So he 
bent down for a look. If you'll believe me, 
when his head come up again he was just 
pale with rage. He says, ' I've shoveled 
acorns enough i n there t o keep the 
family thirty years, and if I can see 
a sign of one of 'em I wish I 
may land in a museum with 
a belly full of sawdust ,^^^ " 
in two minutes ! ' /? r^^==i- 

"He just had strength - =r^A 
enough to crawl up on to 

the comb and lean his back « a blue flush about it." 

a;rin the chimbly, and then he collected his inii^n-essions and 
begun to free his mind. I see in a second that what I had 
mistook for profanity in the mines was only just the rudi- 
ments, as you may say. 

"Another jay Avas going by, and heard him doing his de- 
votions, and stops to inquire what was up. The sufferer told 



HOW IT ALL HAPPENED. 4X 

him the whole circumstance, and says, 'Kow yonder's the 
hole, and if you don't believe me, go and look for yourself.' 
So this fellow went and looked, and comes back and says, 
' Plow many did you say you put in there? ' 'Not any less 
than two tons, ' says the sufferer. The other jay went and 
looked again. He couldn't seem to make it out, so he 
raised a yell, and three more Jays come. They all examined 
the hole, they all made the sufferer tell it over again, then 
they all discussed it, and got oif as many leather-headed 
opinions about it as an average crowd of humans could have 
done. 

" They called in more jays ; then more and more, till 
pretty soon this whole region 'peared to have a blue flush 
about it. There must have been five thousand of them; and 
such another jawing arid disputing and ripping and cussing, 
you ne\ cr heard. Every jay in the whole lot put his eye to 
the hole and delivered a more chuckle-headed opinion about 
the mystery than the jay that went there before him. They 
examined the house all over, too. The door was standing 
half open, and at last one old jay happened to 2:0 and light 
on it and look in. Of course that knocked the mystery galley- 
werit in a second. There lay the acorns, scattered all over 
the floor. He flopped his wings and raised a whoop. ' Come 
here ! ' he says, ' Come here, everybody ; hang'd if this fool 
hasn't been trying to fill up a house with acorns ! ' They all 
came a-swooping down like a blue cloud, and as each fellow 
lit on the door and took a glance, the whole absurdity of the 
contract that that first jay had tackled hit him home and he 
fell over backwards suffocating with laughter, and the next 
jay took his place and done the same. 

"Well, sir, they roosted around here on the house-top and 
the trees for an hour, and gufi'awed over that thing like 
human beings. It ain't any use to tell me a blue-jay hasn't 
got a sense of humor, because I know better. And memory ^ 
too. They brought jays here from all over the United S*'ates 
to look down that hole, every summer for three years Ot?.er 



42 



ONE COULDN'T SEE THE POINT. 



birds too. And thej conld all see the point, except an owl 
that cotne from JSTova iScotia to visit the Yo Semite, and he 
took this thing in on his way back. He Si^^id he couldn't see 
anything funny in it. But then he wafe -^ My^^ ^^'^^ disap- 
pointed about Yo Semite, too." 




CHAPTER IV. 



STUDENT LIFE. 



THE summer semester was in full tide ; consequently the 
most frequent figure in and about Heidelberg was the 
student. Most of the students were Germans, of course, but 
the representatives of foreign lands were very numerous. 
They hailed from every corner of the globe, — for instruction 
is cheap in Heidelberg, and so is living, too. The Anglo- 
American Club, composed of British and American students, 
had twenty-five members, and there was still much material 
left to draw from. 

Nine-tenths of the Heidelberg students wore no badge or 
uniform ; the other tenth wore caps of various colors, and 
belonged to social organizations called " corps." There were- 
five corps, each with a color of its own ; there were white 
caps, blue caps, and red, yellow, and green ones. The 
famous duel-fighting is confined to the "corps" boys. The 
^'^kneip " seems to be a specialty of theirs, too. Kneips are 
held, now and then, to celebrate great occasions, — like the 
election of a beer king, for instance. The solemnity is 
simple ; the five corps assemble at night, and at a signal they 
all fall loading themselves with beer, out of pint-mugs-, as 
fast as possible, and each man keeps his own count, — usually 
by laying aside a lucifer match for each mug he empties. 
The election is soon decided. When the candidates can hold 
no more, a count is instituted and the one who has drank the 

43 



44 



THE "KNEIP." 



g^reatest nnmber of pints is proclaimed king. I was told that 
the last beer king elected by the corps, — or by his own capa- 
bilities, — emptied his nmg seventy-live times. No stomach 







THE BEER KING. 



could hold all that qnantity at one time, of conrse, — bnt 
there are ways of freqnently creating a vacuum, which those 
who have been much at sea will understand. 

One sees so many students abroad at all hours, that he 
presently begins to wonder if they ever have any working 
hours. Some of them have, some of them haven't. Each 
can choose for himself whether he will work or play ; for 
Gernum university life is a very free life ; it seems to have 
no restraints. The student does not live in the college build- 
ings, but hires his own lodgings, in any locality he prefers, 
and he takes his meals when and where he pleases. He 
goes to bed when it suits him, and does not get up at all un- 
less he wants to. He is not entered at the university for any 
particular length of time ; so he is likely to change about. 
He passes no examination upon entering college. He merely 
pays a trifling fee of five or ten dollars, receives a card 
entitling him to the privileges of the university, and that 



ATTENDING LECTURES. 



45 



is the end of it. He is now ready for business, — or play, 
as he shall prefer. If he elects to work, he finds a large 
list of lectures to choose from. He selects the subjects which 
he will study, and enters his name for these studies ; but he 
can skip attendance. 

The result of this system is, that lecture-courses upon 
specialties ot an unusual nature are often deliverd to very slim 
audiences, while those upon more practical and every-day 
matters of education are delivered to very large ones. I 




THE lecturer's AUDIENCE. 

heard of one case where, day after day, the lecturer's audience 
consisted of three students,— and always the same three. 
But one day two of them remained away. The lecturer be- 
gan as usual, — 

"Gentlemen," — 

— then, without a smile, 
he corrected himself, saying, — 

" Sir/'— 

— and went on with his 
discourse. 

It is said that the vast majority of the Heidelberg students 



46 



IMPROVING OPPORTUNITIES. 



are hard workers, and make the most of their opportunities ; 
that they have no surplus means to spend in dissipation, and 
no time to spare for frolicking. One lecture follows right 
on the heels of another, with very little time for the student 
to get out of one hall and into the next ; but the industrious 




INDUSTKIOUS STUDENTS. 

ones manage it by going ou a trot. The professors assist them 
in the saving of their time by being promptly in their little 
boxed-up pulpits when the hours strike, and as promptly out 
again when the hour finishes. I entered an empty lecture 
i-oom one day just before the clock struck. The place had sim- 
ple, un painted pine desks and benches for about 2oo persons. 
About a minute before the clock struck, a hundred and 
fifty students swarmed in, rushed to their seats, imme- 
diately spread open their note-books and dipped their pens 
in the ink. When the clock began to strike, a burly profes- 
sor entered, was received with a round of applause, moved 
swiftly down the center aisle, said " Gentlemen," and began 
to talk as he climbed his pulpit steps; and by the time he 
iiad arrived in his box and faced his audience, his lecture was 
well under w^ay and all the pens were going. He had no 
notes, he talked with prodigious rapidity and energy for an 
hour, — then the students began to remind him in certain 
well understood ways that his time was up ; he seized his 
hat, still talking, proceeded swiftly down his pulpit steps, 
got out the last word of his discourse as he struck tlie floor; 
everybody rose respectfully, and he swept rapidly, down the 



CORPS-ETIQUETTE. 



17 



aisle and disappeared. An instant rush for some other lecture 
room followed, and in a minute I was alone with tlje empty 
benches once more. 

Yes, without doubt, idle students are not the rule. Out 
of eight hundred in the tow^n, I knew the faces of only about 
fifty ; but these I saw everywhere, and daily. They walked 
about the streets and the wooded hills, they drove in cabs, 
they boated on the river, they sipped beer and coffee, after- 
; '^ noons, in the Schloss 

gardens. A good 
many of them wore 
the colored caps of 
the corps. They were 
finely and fashionably 
dressed, their manners 
were quite superb, and 
they led an easy, care- 
less, comfortable life. 
If a dozen of them sat 
together, and a lady 
or a gentleman passed 
whom one of them 
knew and saluted, they 
all rose to their feet 
and took off their caps. 
The members of a corps always received a fellow-member 
in this way, too ; but they paid no attention to members of 
other corps; they did not seem to see them. This was not 
a discourtesy ; it was only a part of the elaborate and rigid 
corps-etiquette. 

There seems to be no chilly distance existing between the 
German students and the professor ; but on the contrary, a 
companionable intercourse, the opposite of chilliness and 
reserve. When the professor enters a beer hall in the eve- 
ning where students are gathered together, these rise up and 
take off their caps, and invite the old gentleman to sit with 
them and partake. He accepts, and the pleasant talk and 




IDLE STUDENT. 



48 



ABOUT DOGS. 



the beer flow for an hour or two, and by and by the profes- 
sor, properly charged and comfortable, gives acord'al good 
night, while the stu- 



dents stand bowing 
and uncovered ; and 
then he moves on his 
happy way home- 
ward with all his 
vast cargo of learn- 
ing afloat in his hold. 
Nobody finds fault or 
feels outraged; no 
harm has been done. 

It seemed to be a part of corps-etiquette to keep a dog or 
so, too. I mean a corpe-dog, — the common property of the 
organization, like the corps-steward or head servant; then 
there are other dogs, owned by individuals. 

On a summer afternoon in the Castle gardens, I have seen 
six students march solemnly into the grounds, in single file, 
each carrying a bright Chinese paras(;l and leading a pro- 
digious dog by a string. It was a very imposing spectacle. 
Sometimes there would be about as many dogs around the 




COMPANIONABLE INTERCOURSE. 




AN IMPOSING SPECTACLE. 



pavilion as students ; and of all breeds and of all degrees of 
beauty and ugliness. These dogs had a rather dry time of 
it; for t!iey were tied to the benches and had no amusement 



MORE ABOUT DOGS, 



49 



for an honr or two at a time except what tliey could get out 
of pawing at the guats, or trying to sleep and not succeeding. 
However, tliey got a lump of sugar occasionally — tliey were 
fond of that. 

It seemed right and proper that students should indulge 
in dogs; but every body else had them, too, — old men and 
young ones, old women and nice young ladies. If there is 
one spectacle that is unpleasanter than another, it is that of 
an elegantly 
dressed young 
lady towing a 
dog by a string. 
It is said to 
be the sign 
and symbol o f 
blighted love. 
It seems to me 
that some other 
way of adver- 
tisinoj it miffht 
be devised, 
which would 
be just as con- 
spicuous and 
yet not so try- 
ing to the pro- 
prieties. 

It would be 
a mistake to 
suppose that 
the easy-going 
pleasure- s e e k - 
ing student 
carries an emp- 
ty head. Just 
the contrary. an advektisment. 

He has spent nine years in the Gymnasium, under a system 




50 THE GERMAN STUDENT. 

wliicli allowed him no freedom, but vigorously compelled 
him to work like a slave. Consequently he has left the gym- 
nasium with an education which is so extensive and complete, 
that the most a university can do for it is to perfect some of 
its prof ounder specialties. It is said that when a pupil leaves 
the gymnasium, he not only has a comprehensive education, 
but he knows what he knows, — it is not befogged with uncer- 
tainty, it is burnt into him so that it will stay. For instance, 
he does not merely read and write Greek, but speaks it; 
the same with the Latin. Foreign youth steer clear of the 
gymnasium ; its rules are too severe. They go to the uni- 
versity to put a mansard roof on their whole general educa- 
tion ; but the German student already has his mansard roof, 
so he goes there to add a steeple in the nature of some spec- 
ialty, such as a particular branch of law, or medicine, or 
philology — like international law, or diseases of the eye, or 
special study of the ancient Gothic tongues. So this German 
attends only the lectures which belong to the chosen branch, 
and drinks his beer and tows his dog around and has a 
general good time the rest of the day. He has been in 
rigid bondage so long that the large liberty of university 
life is just what he needs and likes and thoroughly appre- 
ciates; and as it cannot last forever, he makes the most 
of it while it does last, and so lays up a good rest against the 
day that must see him put on the chains once more and enter 
the slavery of official or professional life. 




CHAPTER Y. 

AT THE students' DUELING GKOUND. 

ONE day in the interest of science my agent obtained 
permission to bring me to the students' dueling place. 
We crossed the river and drove up the bank a few hundred 
yards, then turned to the left, entered a narrow alley, fol- 
lowed it a hundred yards and arrived at a two-story public 
house; we were acquainted with its outside aspect, for it was 
visible from the hotel. We went up stairs and passed into 
a large whitewashed apartment which was perhaps fifty feet 
long, by thirty feet wide and twenty or twenty-five high. It 
was a well lighted place. There was no carpet. Across one 
end and down both sides of the room extended a row of 
tables, and at these tables some fifty or seventy-five students* 
were sitting. 

Some of them were sijDping wine, others were playing 
cards, others chess, other groups were chatting together, and 
many were smoking cigarettes while they waited for the com- 
ing duels. Nearly all of them wore colored caps ; there M-ere 
white caps, green caps, blue caps, red caps, and bright yel- 
low ones ; so, all the five corps were present in strong force. 
In the windows at the vacant end of the room stood six or 
eight long, narrow-bladed swords with large protecting guards 
for the hand, and outside was a man at work sharpening 

* See Appendix C. 

ol 



52 



DUELING CUSTOMS. 



others on a grindstone. He understood his business ; for 
when a sword left his hand one could shave himself with it. 
It was observ^able that the young gentlemen neither bowed 
to nor spoke with students whose caps differed in color from 
their own. This did not mean hostility, but only an armed 
neutralitj'. It was considered that a person could strike 

harder in the duel, and 
with a more earnest in- 
terest, if he had never 
been in a condition of 
comradeship with his 
^ antagonist ; therefore, 
comradeship between 
the corps was not per- 
mitted. At- intervals 
the presidents of the 
five corps have a cold 
official intercourse with 
each other, but nothing 
further. For example 
when the regular duel, 
ing day of one of the 
corps approaches, its 
president calls for volunteers from among the membership 
to offer battle; three or more respond,— but there must 
not be less than three ; the pi'esident lays their names before 
the other presidents, with the request that they furnish 
antagonists for these challengers from among their corps. 
This is promptly done. It chanced that the present occa- 
sion was the battle day of the Red Cap Corps. They were 
the challengers, and certain caps of other colors had volun- 
teered to meet them. The students fight duels in the room 
which I have described, two days in every weeh during seven 
and a half or eight months in every year. This custom has 
continued in Germany two hundred and fifty years. 

To return to my narrative. A student in a white cap met 
us and introduced us to six or eight friends of his who also 




" UNDEESTANDS HIS BUSINESS." 



THE COMBATANTS. 



53 



wore white caps, and wliile we stood conversing, two strange 
looking figures were led in from another room. They were 
students panoplied for the duel. They were bare-headed • 
their eyes were protected by iron goggles which projected an 
inch or more, the leather straps of which bound their ears flat 
against their heads; their necks were wound around and 
around with thick wrappings which a sword could not cut 
through ; from chin to ankle they were padded thoroughly 
against injury; their arms were bandaged and re-bandaged, 
layer upon layer, until they looked like solid black logs. 
These weird apparitions had been handsome youths, clad in 
fashionable attire, fifteen minutes before, but now they did 
not resemble any beings one ever sees unless in night- 
mares. They strode along, with their arms projecting 
straight out from their bodies; they did not hold them out 

tiieinselves, but fel- 
low students walked 
beside them and gave 
the needed support. 
There was a rush 
for the vacant end 
of the room, novr? 
and we followed and 
got good places. 
The combatants were 
placed face to face, 
each with several 
members of his own 
corps about him to 
assist ; two seconds, 
well padded, and 
with swords in their 
hands, took near 
stations; a student belonging to neither of the opposing 
corps placed himself in a good position to umpire the com- 
bat ; another student stood by with a watch and a memoran- 
dum-book to keep record of the time an'd the number and 
nature of tlie wounds ; a gray haired surgeon was present 




THE OLD SURGEON. 



54 



THE FIRST DUEL. 



with his lint, his bandages and his instruments. After a 
moment's pause the duelists saluted the umpire respect- 
ful])', then one after another the several officials stepped for- 
ward, gracefully removed their caps and saluted him also, 
and returned to their places. Everything was ready, now; 
students stood crowded together in the foreground, and 
others stood behind them on chairs and tables. Every face 
was turned toward the center of attraction. 

The combatants were watching each other with alert eyes; 




THE FIRST WOUND. 



a perfect stillness, a breathless interest reigned. I felt that I 
was going to see some wary work. But not so. The instant 
the word was given, the two apparitions sprang forward and 
began to rain blows down upon each other with such lightning 
rapidity that 1 could not quite tell whether I saw the swords 
or only the flashes they made in the air ; the rattling din of 
these blows, as they struck steel or paddings was something 
wonderfully stirring, and they were struck with such terrif- 
ic force that I could not understand why the opposing sword 
was not beaten down under the assanlt. Presently, in the 
midst of the sword-flashes, I saw a handful of hair skip into 
the air as if it had lain loose on the victim's head and a breath 
of wind had pufi'ed it suddenly away. 



A DRAWN BATTLE. 55 

The seconds cried " Halt !" and knocked up the combatant's 
swords with their own. The duelists sat down ; a student- 
official stepped forward, examined the- wounded head and 
touched the place with a sponge once 6r twice ; the surgeon 
came and turned back tlie hair from the wound — and re- 
vealed a crimson gash two or three inches long, and pro- 
ceeded to bind an oval piece of leather and a bunch of lint 
over it; the tally-keeper stepped up and tallied one for the 
opposition in his book. 

Then the duelists took position again ; a small stream of 
blood was flowing down the side of the injured man's head, 
and over his shoulder and down liis body to the floor, but 
he did not seem to mind this. The word was given, and 
thej plunged at each other as fiercely as before ; once more 
the blows rained and rattled and flashed ; every few moments 
the quick-eyed seconds would notice that a sword was 
bent — then they called " Halt ! " struck up the contending 
weapons, and an assisting student straightened the bent one. 

Tiie wonderful turmoil went on — presently a bright spark 
sprung from a blade, and that bhide, broken in several pieces,, 
sent one of its fragments flying to the ceiling. A new swordi 
was provided, and the flght proceeded. The exercise was- 
tremendous, of course, and in time the fighters began tO' 
show great fatigue. They were allowed to rest a moment,, 
every little while ; they got other rests by wounding each, 
other, for then they could sit down while the doctor applied: 
the lint and bandages. The law is that the battle must con- 
tinue fifteen minutes if tlie men can hold out ; and as the 
pauses do not count, this duel was protracted to twenty on 
thirty minutes, I judged. At last it was'decided that the men 
were too much wearied to do battle longer. They were led: 
away drenched with crimson from head to foot. That M-as a 
good fight, but it could not count, partly because- it did nob 
last the lawful fifteen minutes, (of actual fighting,) and partly 
because neither man was disabled by his wounds. It was a* 
drawn battle, and corps-law requires that drawn battles shalli 
be re-fought as soon as the adversaries aie well of their hurts-* 



56 A SHORT CONFLICT. 

During the conflict, I liad talked a little, now and then, 
with a jonng gentleman of the white cap corps and he had 
mentioned that he was to fight next, — and had also pointed 
out his challenger, a young gentleman who was leaning 
against the opposite wall smoking a cigarette and restfully 
observing the duel then in progress. 

My acquaintanceship with a party to the coming contest 
had the effect of giving me a kind of personal interest in it ; 
I naturally wished he might win, and it was the reverse of 
pleasant to learn that he probably would not, because al- 
though he was a notable swordsman, the challenger was held 
to be his superior. 

The duel presently began and in the same furious way 
which had marked the pi'cvious one. I stood close by, but 
could not tell which blows told and which did not, they fell 
and vanished so like flashes of light. They all seemed to 
tell ; the swords always bent over the opponents' heads, from 
the forehead back over the crown, and seemed to touch, all 
the May ; but it was not so, — a protecting blade, invisible to 
me, Avas always interposed between. At the end of ten 
seconds each man had struck twelve or fifteen blows, and 
warded oflf twelve or fifteen, and no harm done; then a 
sword became disabled, and a short rest followed whilst a new 
one was brought. Early in the next round the Mdiite corps 
student got an ugly wound on the side of his head and gave 
his opponent one like it. In the third round the latter re- 
ceived another bad wound in the liead, and the former had 
his under-lip divided. After that, the white corps student 
gave many severe wounds, but got none of consequence in 
return. At the end of five minutes from the beginning of 
the duel the surgeon stopped it ; the challenging party had 
suffered such injuries that any addition to them might be 
dangerous. These injuries were a fearful spectacle, but 
are better left undescribed. So, against expectation, my 
acquaintance was the victor. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE third duel was brief and bloody. The surgeon stop- 
ped it when he saw that one of the nien had received 
such bad wounds that he could not fight longer without 
endangering liis life. 

The fourth duel was a tremendous encounter ; but at the 
end of five or six minutes the surgeon interfered once more: 
another man so severely hurt as to render it unsafe to add 
to his harms. I watched this engagement as I had watched 
the others, — with rapt interest and strong excitement, and 
with a shrink and a shudder for every blow that laid open a 
cheek or a forehead ; and a conscious paling of my face when 
1 occasionally saw a wound of a yet more shocking nature 
inflicted. My eyes were upon the loser of this duel when 
he got his last and vanquishing wound, — it was in his face 
and it carried away his — but no matter, I must not enter 
into details. I had but a glance, and then turned quickly 
away, but 1 would not have been looking at all if I had known 
what was coming. No, that is probably not true ; one thinks 
he would not look if he knew what was coming, but the 
interest and the excitement are so powerful that they would 
doubtless conquer all other feelings ; and so, under the fierce 
exhilaration of the clashing steel, he would yield and look, 
after all. Sometimes spectators of these duels faint, — and 
it does seem a very reasonable thing to do, too. 

57 



58 REPAIRING DAMAGES. 

Both parties to this fourth duel were badly hurt ; so much 
so that the surgeon was at work upon them nearly or quite 
an hour, — a fact which is suggestive. But this waiting in- 
terval was not wasted in idleness by the assembled students. 
It was past noon; therefore they ordered their landlord, 
down stairs, to send up hot beefsteaks, chickens, and such 
things, and these they ate, sitting comfortably at the several 
tables, whilst they chatted, disputed and laughed. The door 
to the surgeon's room stood open, meantime, but the cutting, 
sewing, splicing and bandaging going on in there in plain 
view, did not seem to disturb any one's appetite. I went in 
and saw the surgeon labor a while, but could not enjoy it ; 
it was much less trying, to see the wounds given and received 
than to see them mended ; the stir and turmoil, and the 
music of the steel, were wanting, here, — one's nerves were 
wrung by this grisly spectacle, whilst the duel's compensating 
pleasurable thrill was lacking. 

Finally the doctor finished, and the men who were to fight 
the closing battle of the day came forth. A good many 
dinners were not completed, yet, but no matter, they could 
be eaten cold, after the battle ; therefore everybody crowded 
forward to see. This was not a love duel, but a " satisfac- 
tion "affair. These two students had quarreled, and were 
here to settle it. They did not belong to any of the corps, 
but they were furnished with weapons and armor, and 
permitted to fight here by the five corps as a courtesy. Evi- 
dently these two young men were unfamiliar with the dueling 
ceremonies, though they were not unfamiliar M^th the sword. 
When they were placed in position they thought it was time 
to begin, — and they did begin, too, and with a most impetu- 
ous energy, without waiting for anybody to give the word. 
This vastly amused the spectators, and even broke down their 
studied and courtly gravity and surprised them into laughter. 
Of course the seconds struck up the swords and started the 
duel over again. At the word, the deluge of blows began, 
but before long the surgeon once more interfered, — for the 
only reason which ever permits him to interfere, — and the 



WHAT I SAW. 61 

day's war was over. It was now two in the afternoon, and 
1 had been present since half past nine in the morning. The 
field of battle was indeed a red one by this time ; but some 
sawdust soon righted that. There had been one duel before 
I arrived. In it one of the men received many injuries, while 
the other one escaped without a scratch. 

I had seen the heads and faces of ten youths gashed in 
every direction by the keen two-edged blades, and yet had 
not seen a victim wince, nor heard a moan, or detected any 
fleeting expression M'hich confessed the sharp pain the hurts 
were inflicting. This was good fortitude, indeed. Such 
endurance is to be expected in savages and prize-fighters, for 
they are born and educated to it ; but to find it in such per- 
fection in these gently bred and kindly natured young fellows 
is matter for surprise. It was not merely under the excite- 
ment of the sword-play that this fortitude was shown ; it was 
shown in the surgeon's room where an uninspiring quiet 
reigned, and where there was no audience. The doctor's 
manipulations brought out neither grimaces nor moans. And 
in the fights it was observable that these lads hacked and 
slashed with the same tremendous spirit, after they were 
covered with streaming wounds, which they had shown in 
the beginning. 

The world in general looks upon the college duels as very 
farcical affairs: true, but considering that the college duel is 
fought by boys ; that the swords are real swords ; and that the 
head and face are exposed, it seems to me that it is a farce 
which has quite a grave side to it. People laugh at it mainly 
because they think the student is so covered up with armor 
that he cannot be hurt. But it is not so; his eyes and 
ears are protected, but the rest of his face and head are bare, 
lie can not only be badly wounded, but his life is in danger ; 
and he would sometimes lose it but for the interference of 
the surgeon. It is not intended that his life shall be endan- 
gered. Fatal accidents are possible, however. For in- 
stance, the student's sword may break, and the end of it fly 
up behind his antagonist's ear and cut an artery which could 



62 RESULTS OF COLLEGE DUELS. 

not be reached if the sword remained whole. This has 
liappened, sometimes, and death has resulted on the spot. 
Formerly the student's armpits were not protected, — and 
at that time the swords were pointed, whereas they aie 
blunt, now ; so an artery in the armpit was sometimes cut, 
and death followed. Then in the days of shaip-pointed 
swords, a spectator was an occasional victim, — the end of a 
broken sword flew five or ten feet and buried itself in his 
neck or his heart, and death ensued instantly. The student 
duels in Germany occasion two or three deaths every jcar, 
now, but this arises only from the carelessness of the 
wounded men ; they eat or drink imprudently, or commit 
excesses in the way of over-exertion ; inflammation sets in and 
gets such a headway that it cannot I'c arrested. Indeed 
there is blood and pain and danger enough about the college 
duel to entitle it to a considerable degree of respect. 

, All the customs, all the laws, all the details, pertaining to 
the student duel are quaint and naive. Tlie grave, precise, 
and coui'tly cerenjony with \Ahifh the thing is conducted, 
invests it with a sort of antique charm. 

This dignity, and these knightly graces suggest the tourna- 
ment, not the prize fight. The laws are as curious as they 
are strict. For instance, the duelitt may step forward from 
the line he is placed upon, if he chooses, but never back of 
it. If he steps back of it, or even leans back, it is considered 
that he did it to avoid a blow or contrive an advantage ; so 
he is dismissed fi'om his corps in disgrace. It would seem 
but natural to step from under a descending sword uncon- 
sciously, and against one's M'ill and intent, — ^-et this uncon- 
sciousness is not allowed. Again: if under the sudden 
anguish of a wound the receiver of it makes a grimace, he 
falls some degrees in the estimation of liis fellows; his corps 
are ashamed of him ; they call him " hare foot," which is the 
German equivalent for chicken-hearted. 



CHAPTEE yil. 

IN addition to tlie corps laws, there are some corps-usages 
which have the force of laws. 

Perhaps the president of a corps notices that one of the 
. membership who is no longer an exempt, — that is a fresh- 
man, — has remained a sophomore some little time without 
volunteering to fight ; some day, the president, instead of 
calling for volunteers, will ajpjpoint this sophomore to meas- 
ure swords with a student of another corps ; he is free to 
decline — everybody says so, — there is no compulsion. This 
is all true, — but I have not heard of any student who did 
decline. He wotild naturally rather retire from the corps 
than decline ; to decline, and still remain in the corps would 
make him unpleasantly conspicuous, and properly so, since 
he knew, when he joined, that his main business, as a mem- 
ber, would be to fight. No, there is no law against declin- 
ing, — except the law of custom, which is confessedly sti'ong- 
er than written law, everywhere. 

The ten men whose duels I had witnessed did not go away 
when their hurts were dressed, as I had supposed they would, 
but came back, one after another, as soon as they were free 
of the surgeon, and mingled with the assemblage in I ho 
dueling room. The white-cap student who won the second 
fight witnessed the remaining three, and talked M-ith ns 
during the intermissions. He could not talk very well, 
because his opponent's sword had cut his under lip in two, 



64 



THE WOUNDED. 




and then the surgeon had sewed it together and overlaid it 
with a profusion of white plaister patches ; neither conld he 

eat easily, still he contriv- 
ed to accomplish a slow 
and troublesome luncheon 
while the last duel was 
preparing. The man who 
was the worst hurt of all, 
played chess while waiting 
to see this engagement. A 
good part of his face was 
covered with patches and 
~lJJaMr)a[f.i__ bandages, and all the rest 

of his head was covered and concealed by them. It is said 
that the student likes to appear on the street and in other 
public places in this kind of array, and that this predilec-, 
tion often keeps him out when exposure to rain or sun is 

a positive danger for him. 



IMewly bandaged students 
are a very common specta- 
cle in the public gai-dens 
of Heidelberg. It is also 
said that the student is 
glad to get wounds in the 
face, because the scars 
io) they leave will show so 
,well there; and it is also 
"^"^ said that these face- 
wounds are so prized that 
youths have even been 
known to pull them apart from time to time and put red 
wine in them to make them heal badly and leave as ugly a 
scar as possible. It does not look reasonable, but it is 
roundly asserted and maintained, nevertheless; I am sure of 
one thing, — scars are plenty enough in Germany, among 
the young men; and very grim ones they are, too. They 
criss-cross the face in angry red welts, and are permanent 




FAVORITE STREET COSTUME. 



A BADGE OF HONOR. 



65 



and ineffaceable. Some of these scars are of a very strange 
and dreadful aspect ; and the effect is striking when several 
such accent the milder ones, which form a city map on a 
man's face ; they suggest 
the " burned district " 
then. 

We had often noticed 
that many of the students 
wore a colored silk band 
or ribbon diagonally 
across their breasts. It 
transpired that this sig- 
nifies that the wearer 
has fought three duels 
in which a decision was 
reached — duels in which 
he either whipped or 
was whipped , — f o r ineffaceable soaks. 

drawn battles do not count* After a student has received 
his ribbon, he is " free ; " he can cease from fighting, with- 
out reproach, — except some one insult him ; his president 
cannot appoint him to fight ; he can volunteer if he wants 
to, or remain quiescent if he prefers to do so. Statistics 
show that he does not prefer to remain quiescent. They 
show that the duel has a singular fascination about it some- 
where, for these free men, so far from resting upon the priv- 
ilege of the badge, are always volunteering. A corps student 
told me it was of record tliat Prince Bismarck fought thirty- 
two of these duels in a single summer term when he was in 




* From mt Diary. — Dined in a hotel a few miles up the Neckar, in a room 
whose walls were hung all over with framed portrait-gnmps of the Five 
Corps ; some were recent, but many antedated photography, and were pic- 
tured in lithography — the dates ranged back to forty or fifty years ago. 
Nearly every individual wore the ribbon across his breast. In one portrait- 
group representing (as each of these pictures did) an entire Corps, I took 
pains to count the ribbons : there were twenty-seven members, and twenty^ 
one of them wore that significant badge. 



66 A LITTLE STATISTICAL. 

college. So he fought twenty-nine after his badge had given 
him the right to retire from the field. 

Tlie statistics may be found to possess interest in several 
particulars. Two days in every Meek are devoted to dueling. 
The rule is rigid that there must be three duels on each of 
these days; there are generally more, but there cannot be 
fewer. There were six the day I was present ; sometimes 
there are seven or eight. It is insisted that eight duels a 
week, — four for each of the two days, — is too low an average 
to draw a calculation from, but I will reckon from that basis, 
preferring an under-statement to an over-statement of the 
case. This requires about four hundred and eighty or five 
hundred duelists in a year, — for in summer the college term 
is about three and a half months, and in winter it is four 
months and sometimes longer. Of the seven hundred and 
fifty students in the university at the time I am writing of, 
only eighty belonged to the five corps, and it is only these 
corps that do the dueling ; occasionally other students borrow 
the arms and battle-ground of the five corps in order to settle 
a quarrel, but this does not happen every dueling day.* 
Consequently eighty youths furnish the material for some 
two hundred and fifty duels a year. This average gives 
six fights a year to each of the eighty. This large work 
could not be accomplished if the badge-holders stood upon 
their privilege and ceased to volunteer. 

Of course where there is so much fighting, the students 
make it a point to keep themselves in constant practice wilh 
the foil. One often sees them, at the tables in the Castle 
grounds, using their wliips or canes to illustrate some new 
sw»»rd trick which they have heard about; and between tlie 
duels, on the day whose history I have been writing, the 
swords were not always idle; every now and then we heard a 
succession of the keen hissing sounds which the sword mal es 

*They have to borrow the arms because they couM not get them else- 
where or otherwise. As I understand it, the public authorities, all over 
Germany, allow the five corps to keep swords, hxit do not allow them to use 
them. This law is rigid ; it is only the execution of it that is lax. 



CONSTANT SWORD PRACTICE. ' 67 

when it is being put tlirougli its paces in the air, and this 
informed us that a student was practicing. Necessarily this 
unceasing attention to the art develops an expert occasion- 
ally. He becomes famous in his own university, his renown 
spreads to other universities. Pie is invited to Gottingen, 
to fight with a Gottingen expert ; if he is victorious, he will 
be invited to other colleges, or those colleges will send their 
experts to him. Americans and Englishmen often join one 
or another of the five corps. A year or two ago, the princi- 
pal Heidelberg expert was a big Kentuckian ; he was invited 
to the various universities and left a wake of victory behind 
him all about Germany ; but at last a little student in Stras- 
burg defeated him. There was formerly a student in 
Heidelberg who had picked up somewhere and mastered a 
peculiar trick of cutting up under instead of cleaving down 
from above. While the trick lasted he won in sixteen suc- 
cessive duels in his own university ; but by that time 
observers had discovered what his charm was, and how to 
break it, therefore his championship ceased. 

The rule which forbids social intercourse between memt 
bers of different corps is strict. In the dueling house, in 
the parks, on the street, and anywhere and everywhere that 
students go, caps of a color group themselves together. li 
all the tables in a public garden were crowded but one, and 
that one had two red-cap students at it and ten vacant places, 
the yellow caps, the blue caps, the white caps and the green 
caps, seeking seats, would go by that table and not seem to 
see it, nor seem to be aware that there was such a table in 
the grounds. The student by whose courtesy we had been 
enabled to visit the dueling place, wore the white cap, — ■ 
Prussian Corps. He introduced us to many white caps but 
to none of another color. The corps etiquette extended 
even to us, who were strangers, and required us to group 
with the white corps only, and speak only with the white 
corps, while we were their guests, and keep aloof from caps 
of the other colors. Once I wished to examine some of the 
swords, but an American student said, " It would not be 
quite polite ; these now in the windows all have red hilts or 



68 



CORPS ETIQUETTE. 



blue ; they will bring in some with white hilts presently, and 
those jou can handle freely." When a sword was broken in 
the first duel, I wanted a piece of it ; but its hilt 
was the wrong color, so it was considered best and 
politest to await a properer season. It was brought 
to me after the room was cleared, and I will now 
make a "life-size" sketch of it by tracing a line 
around it with my pen, to show the width of the 
weapon. The length of these swords is about three 
feet, and they are quite heavy. One's disposition to 
cheer, during the course of the duels or at their close, 
was naturally strong, but corps etiquette forbade 
any demonstrations of this sort. However brilliant 
a contest or a victory might be, no sign or sound be- 
trayed that any one was moved. A dignified grav- 
ity and repression were maintained at all times, 

AVhen the dueling was finished and we were ready 
to go, iahe gentlemen of the Prussian Corps to whom 
we had been introduced took off their caps in the 
courteous German way, and also shook hands ; their 
brethren of the same order took off their caps and 
^^ bowed, but without shaking hands; the gentlemen 
of the other corps treated us just as they would 
have treated white caps, — they fell apart, appar- 
ently unconsciously, and left us an unobstructed 
pathway, but did not seem to see us or know we 
were there. If we had gone thither the following week as 
guests of another corps, the white caps, without meaning 
any offense would have observed the etiquette of their order 
and ignored our presence. 

[How strangely are comedy and tragedy blended in this life ! I had not 
been home a full half hour, after witnessing those playful sham-duels, when 
circumstances made it necessary for me to get ready immediately to assist 
personally at a real one — a duel with no effeminate limitations in the matter 
of results, but a battle to the death. An account of it, in the next chapter, 
will show the reader that duels between boys, for fun^ and duels between 
men in earnest, are very different affairs.] 




PrECE OP 
SWORD. 



CHAPTER Vm. 



THE GKEAT FRENCH DUEL. 



MUCH as the modern French duel is ridiculed by certain 
smart people, it is in reality one of the most dangerous 
institutions of our day. Since it is always fought in the open 
air the combatants are nearly sure to catch cold. M. Paul 
de Cassagnac, the most inveterate of the French duelists, has 
suffered so often in this way that he is at last a confirmed 
invalid; and the best physician in Paris has expressed the 
opinion that if he goes on dueling for fifteen or twenty years 
more, — unless he forms the habit of fighting in a comfortable 
room where damps and draughts cannot intrude, — he will 
ev^entually endanger his life. This ought to moderate the 
talk of those people who are so stubborn in maintaining that 
the French duel is the most health-giving of recreations 
because of the open-air exercise it aflfords. And it ought also 
to moderate that foolish talk about French duelists and 
socialist-hated monarchs being the only people who are 
immortal. ^ 

But it is time to get at my subject. As soon as I heard of 
the late fiery outbreak between M. Gambetta and M. Four- 
tou in the French Assembly, I knew that trouble must fol- 
low. I knew it because a long perponal friendship with M. 
Gambetta had revealed to me the desperate and implacable 
nature of the man. Yast as are his physical proportions, I 
knew that the thirst for revenge would penetrate to the re- 
motest frontiers of his person. 

69 



70 



MAKING PREPARATIONS. 




I did not wait for him to call on me, but went at once to 
him. As I expected, I found the brave fellow steeped in a 
profound French calm. I say French calm, because Fi-ench 
calmness and Engflisli c;ilmness have points of difference. He 

was moving swiftly back 
and forth among the debris 
of his furniture, now and 
then staving chance frtig- 
ments of it across the room 
with his foot ; grinding a 
constant grist of curses 
through liis set teeth ; and 
halting every little while to 
deposit another liandful of 
his hair on the pile which he 
had been building of it on 
the table. 

He threw his arms around 
. FRENCH CALM. my ueck, bent me over liis 

stomach to his breast, kissed me on both cheeks, hugged me 
four or five times, and then placed me in his own arm-chair. 
As soon as I had got well again, we began business ^t once. 
I said I supposed he would wish me to act as his second, 
and he said, " Of course." I said I must be allowed to act 
under a French name, so that I might be shielded from 
obloquy in my country, in case of fatal results. He winced 
here, probably at the suggestion that dueling was not regard- 
ed with respect in America. However, he agreed to my re- 
quirement. This accounts for the fact that in all the news- 
paper reports M. Gambetta's second was apparently a 
Frenchman. 

First, M^e drew up my principal's will. I insisted upon 
this, and stuck to my point. I said I had never heard of a 
man in his right mind going out to light a duel without first 
making his will. He said he had never heard of a man 
in his right mind doing anything of the kind. When he 
had finished the will, he wished to proceed to a choice of 



THE CHALLENGE. 



71 



his "last words." He wanted to know how the following 
words, as a dying exclamation, struck me : — 

" I die for my God, for my country, for freedom of speech, 
for progress, and the universal brotherhood of man ! " 

I objected that this would require too lingering a death ; 
it was a good speech for a consumptive, but not suited to the 
exigencies of the held of lionor. We wrangled over a good 
many ante-mortem outbursts, but I finally got him to cut his 
obituary down to this, which he copied into his memoran- 
dum book, pui'posing to get it by heart: — 

" I DIE THAT FRANCE MAY LIVE." 

I said that this remark seemed to lack relevancy ; but he 
said relevancy was a matter of no consequence in last w^ords, 
what you wanted was thrill. 

The next thing in order was the choice of weapons. My 
principal said he was not feeling well, and would leave that 
and theother details of the proposed meeting to me. There- 
fore I wrote the following note and carried it to M. Fourtou's 
friend : — 

" Sm: M. Gambetta accepts M. Fourtou's challenge, and 
authorizes me to propo^^e Plessis-Piquet as the place of meet- 
ing; to-morrow morning at daybreak as the time; and axes 
as the weapons. I am, sir, w^ith great respect, 

Mark Twain." 

M. Fourtou's friend read this note, and shuddered. Then 
lie turned to me, and said, with 
a suggestion of severity in his 
tone : — 

"Have you considered, sir, 
what would be the inevitable 
result of such a meeting as this ? '' 

"Well, for instance, what fi] 



would it be ? " 

" Bloodshed ! " 

"That's about the size of it,"'I '^^' 
said. "Now, if it is a ffiir the chali knge .AcrEPTED. 
qaestion, what \\a< your side proposing lo &hed ?" 




72 CHOOSING WEAPONS. 

I had him, there. He saw he had made a blunder, so he 
hastened to explain it away. He said he had spoken jesting- 
ly. Then he added that he and his principal would enjoy 
axes, and indeed prefer them, but such weapons were barred " 
by the French code,- and so I must change my proposal. 

I walked the floor, turning the thing over in my mind, and 
finally it occurred to me that Gatling guns at fifteen paces 
would be a likely way to get a verdict on the field of honor. 
So I framed tliis idea into a proposition. 

But it was not accepted. The code was in the M'ay again. 
I proposed rifles; then double-barreled shot-guns; then, 
Colt's navy revolvers. These being all rejected, I reflected 
a while, and sarcastically suggested brick-bats at three quar- 
ters of a mile. I always hate to fool away a humorous thing 
on a person who has no perception of humor ; and it filled 
me with bitterness when this man went soberly away to 
submit the last proposition to his principal. 

He came back presently and said his principal M'as charmed 
with the idea of brick-bats at three quarters of a mile, but 
must decline on account of the danger to disinterested 
parties passing between. Then I said : — 

" Well, I am at the end of my string, now. 
Perhaps yoit would be good enough to suggest 
a weapon ? Perhaps you have even had one 
in your mind all the time ? " 

His countenance brightened, and he said 
with alacrity, — 

"Oh, without doubt, monsieur!" 
So he fell to hunting in his pockets,— pocket 
after pocket, and he had plenty of them,— 
muttering all the while, " Now, what could I 
have done with them % " 

At last he was successful. He fished out 
of his vest pocket a couple of little things 
which I carried to the light and ascertamed to be pistols. 
They were single-barreled and silver-mounted, and very 
dainty and pretty. I was not able to speak for emotion. I 
silently hnng one of them on my watch chain, and returned 




A SEARCH. 



DECIDING ON DISTANCE. 



73 



the other. My companion in crime now unrolled a postage- 
stamp containing several cartridges, and gave me one of 
them. I asked if he meant to signify by this that our men 
were to be allowed but one shot apiece. He replied that the 
French code permitted no more. I then begged him to go 
on and suggest a distance, for my mind was growing weak 
and confused under the strain which had been put upon it. 
He named sixty-five yards. I nearly lost my patience. I 
said, — 

"Sixty-five yards, with these instruments? Squirt-o-uns 
would be deadlier at fifty. Consider, my friend, j'^ouand I 

are banded together to destroy fife, not make it eternal." 
But with all my persuasions, all my arguments, I was only 

able to get him to reduce the distance to thirty-five yards ; 

and even this concession he made with reluctance, and said 

with a sigh, — 

" I wash my hands of this slaughter; on your head be it." 
There w^as nothing for me but to go home to my old lion- 
heart and tell my 

humiliating story. 

When I entered, ]\I. 

Gambetta was laying 

his last lock of liair 

upon the altar. He 

sprang toward m e , 

exclaiming, 

" You have made 




Wf B 



HE. SWOONED PONDEROUSLY. 

the fatal arrangements, — I see it in your eye ! " 

" I have." 

His face paled a trifle, and he leaned upon the table for 
support. He breathed thick and heavily for a moment or 
two, so tumultuous were his feelings; then he hoarsely 
whispered, — 

" The weapon, the weapon ! Quick ! what is the weapon ?'" 

" This! " and I displayed that silver-mounted thing. He 
cast but one glance at it, then swooned ponderously to the 
floor. 



u 



WONDERFUL CALMNESS. 




When he came to, he said mournfully, — 

" The unnatural calm to which I have subjected myself 
has told upon my nerves. But away with weakness ! 1 will 
confront my fate like a man and a Frenchman." 

He rose to his feet, and assumed an attitude which for 
sublimity has never been approached b}^ man, and has sel- 
dom been surpassed by statues. Then he said, in his deep 
bass tones, — 

" Behold, I am calm, I am ready ; reveal to me the 
distance." 

" Thirty-five yards." 

I could not lift him up, of course ; but I rolled him over, 

and poured water 
down his back. He 
presently came to, and 
said, — 

" Thirty-five yards, 

— without a rest? 

I ROLLED HIM OVER. But why ask ? Since 

murder was that man's intention, why should he palter with 

small details? But mark you one thing: in my fall the 

world shall see how the chivalry of France meets death." 

After a long silence he asked, — 

" Was nothing said about that man's family standing up 
with him, as an offset to my bulk ? But no matter ; I would 
no^ stoop to make such a suggestion ; if he is not noble 
enough to suggest it himself, he is welcome to this advan- 
tao-e, which no honorable man would take." 

"ke now sank into a sort of stupor of reflection, which 
lasted some minutes; after which he broke silence with,— 
" The hour,— what is the hour fixed for the collision ? " 
" Dawn, to-morrow." 

He seemed greatly surprised, and immediately said, — 
"Insanity! I never heard of such a thing. Nobody is 
abroad at such an hour." 

" That is the reason I named it. Do you mean to say you 
want an audience ? " 



ARRANGING IMPORTANT DETAILS. 75 

"It is no time to bandy words. I am astonished that M. 
Fourtou should ever have agreed to so strange an innovation. 
Go at once and require a later hour." 

I ran down stairs, threw open the front door, and almost 
plunged into the arms of M. Fourton's second. He said, — 

'• I have the honor to say that my principal strenuously ob- 
jects to the hour chosen, and begs you will consent to change 
it to half past nine." 

"Any courtesy, sir, which it is in our power to extend is at 
the service of your excellent principal. We agree to the 
proposed change of time." 

" I beg you to accept the thanks of my client." Then he 
turned to a person behind him, and said, "You hear M. 
]^oir, the hour is altered to half past nine." Whereupon 
M. Noir bowed, expressed his thanks, and went away. My 
accomplice continued: — 

"If agreeable to you, your chief surgeons and ours shall 
proceed to the field in the same carriage, as is customary." 

" It is entirel}' agreeable to me, and I am obliged to you 
for mentioning the surgeons, for I am afraid I should not 
have thought of them. How many shall I want ? I suppose 
two or three will be enough ? " 

"Two is the customary number for each party. I refer 
to 'chief surgeons; but considering the exalted positions 
occupied by our clients, it will be well and decorous that 
each of us appoint several consulting surgeons, from among 
the highest in the profession. These will come in their own 
private carriages. Have 3'ou engaged a hearse ? " 

"Bless my stupidity, I never thought of it! I will attend 
to it right away. 
I must seem 
very ignorant 
to you ; but you 
must try to 
overlook that, 
because I have 
never had any experience of such a swell duel as this before 




THE ONE I HIRED. 



76 TO THE FIELD. 

I have liad a good deal to do with duels on the Pacific coast, 
but 1 see now that thej were crude affairs. A heaise, — 
sho ! we used to leave the elected Ijing around loose, and let 
anybody cord them up and cart them off that Manted to. 
Have you anything further to suggest ? " 

"Nothing, except that the head undertakers shall ride to- 
gether, as is usual. The subordinates and mutes will go on 
foot, as is also usual. I will see you at eight o'clock in the 
morning, and we will then arrange the order of the procession. 
I have the honor to bid you a good day." 

1 returned to my client, who said, " Very well ; at what 
hour is the engagement to begin ? " 

" Half past nine." 

" Very good indeed. Have you sent the fact to the 
newspapers ? " 

^^ Sir ! If after our long and intimate friendship you can 
for a moment deem me capable of so base a treachery " — 

''Tut, tut! What words are these, my dear friend? 
Havel wounded you? Ah, forgive me; I am overloading 
you with labor. Therefore go on with the other details, 
and drop this one from your list. The bloody-minded Four- 
ton will be sure to attend to it. Or I myself — yes, to make 
certain, I will drop a note to my journalistic friend, M. 
Noir "— 

" Oh, come to think, you may save yourself the trouble ; 
that other second has informed M. Noir." 

"H'm! I might have known it. It is just like that 
Fourtou, who always wants to make a display." 

At half past nine in the morning the procession approached 
tlie field of Plessis-Piquet in the following order: first came 
our carriage, — nobody in it but M. Gambetta and myself; 
then a carriage containing M. Fourtou and his second ; then 
a carriage containing two poet-orators who did not believe 
in God, and these had MS. funeral orations projecting from 
their breast pockets ; then a carriage containing the head 
surgeons and their cases of instruments; then eight private 
carriages containing consulting surgeons; then a hack con- 




THE MARCH TO THE FIELD. 



ON THE BATTLE GROUND. 79 

taining a coroner ; then the two hearses ; then a carriage 
cuntaining the head undertakers ; then a train of assistants 
and mutes on foot; and after these came plodding through 
the fog a long procession of camp followers, police, and 
citizens generally. It was a noble turn-out, and would have 
made a tine display if we had had thinner weather. 

There was no conversation. I spoke several times to my 
principal, but I judge he was not aware of it, for he always 
referred to his note-book and muttered absently, " 1 die that 
France may live." 

Arrived on the field, mj' fellow-second and I paced off the 
thirty-tive yards, and then drew lots for choice of position. 
This latter was but an ornamental ceremony, for all choices 
were alike in such weather. These preliminaries being 
ended, I went to my principal and asked him if he was 
ready. He spread himself out to his full width, and said in 
a stern voice, " Ready ! Let the batteries be charged." 

The loading was done in the presence of duly constituted 
witnesses. We considered it best to perform this delicate 
service with the assistance of a lantern, on account of the 
state of the weather. "VVe now placed our men. 

At this point the police noticed that the public had massed 
themselves together on the right and left of the field ; they 
therefore begged a delay, while they should put these poor 
people in a place of safety. The request was granted. 

The police having ordered the two multitudes to take 
positions behind the duelists, we were once more ready. 
The weather growing still more opaque, it was agreed be- 
tween my?elf and the other second that before giving the 
fatal signal we should each deliver a loud whoop to enable 
the combatants to ascertain each other's whereabouts. 

I now returned to my principal, and wa^^ distressed to ob- 
serve that he had lost a good deal of his spirit. I tried my 
best to hearten him. I said, "Indeed, sir, things are not as 
bad as they seem. Considering the character of the weap- 
ons, the limited number of shots allowed, the generous dis- 
tance, the impenetrable solidity of the fog, and the added 



80 



THE DUEL. 



fact that one of the combatants is one-eyed and the other 
cross-ejed and near-sighted, it seems to me that this conflict 
need not necessarily be fatah There are chances that both 
of you may survive. Therefore, cheer up ; do not be down- 
hearted." 

This speech had so good an effect tliat my principal imme- 
diately stretched forth his hand and said, "I am myself 
again ; give me the vi'eapon." 

I laid it, all lonely and forlorn, in the centre of the vast 
solitude of his palm. lie gazed at it and shuddered. And 

still mournfully contempla- 
ting it, he murmured, in a 
broken voice, — 

"Alas, it is not death I 
dread but mutilation." 

1 heartened him once more, 
and with such success that he 
presently said, "Let the 
tragedy begin. Stand at my 
back ; do not desert me in this 
solemn hour, my friend." 
I gave him my promise. 1 now assisted him to point his 
pistol toward the spot where 1 judged his adversary to be 
standing, and cautioned him to listen well and further guide 
himself by my fellow second's whoop. Then I propped 
myself against M. Gambetta's back, and raised a rousing 
" Whoopee !" This was answered from out the far distances 
of the fog, and I immediately shouted, — 
" One, — two, — three, — -fire ! " 

Two little sounds like spit ' sint ! broke upon my ear, 
and in the same instant I was crushed to the earth under a 
mountain of flesh. Bruised as 1 was, 1 was still able to 
catch a faint accent from above, to this effect, — - 

" I die for . . . for . . . perdition take it, what is it I die 

for % . , . oh, yes, — ^Feance ! I die that France may live ! " 

The surgeons swarmed around w-ith their probes in their 

hands, and applied their microscopes to the whole area of JVl. 




v/f -P- 



Vv- 



THE POST OF DANGER. 



^'0 BLOODSHED, 



81 



Gambetta's person, with the happy result of finding nothing 
in the nature of a wouud. Then a scene ensued which was 
in every way gratifying and inspiriting. 

The two gladiators fell upon each other's necks, with floods 
of proud and happy tears ; that other second embraced me ; 
the surgeons, the orators, the undertakers, the police, every- 




THE RECONCILIATION. 

body embraced, everybody congratulated, everybody cried, 
and the whole atmosphere was tilled with praise and with 
joy unspeakable. 

"^It seemed to me then that I would rather be a hero of a 
French duel than a crowned and sceptred monarch. 

When the commotion had somewhat subsided, the body of 
surgeons held a consultation, and after a good deal of debate 
decided that with proper care and nursing there was reason 
to believe that I would survive my injuries. My internal 
hurts were deemed the most serious, since it was apparent 
that a broken rib had penetrated my left lung, and that 
many of my organs had been pressed out so far to one side 
or tlie other of where they belonged, that it was doubtful if 
they would ever learn to perform their functions in such re- 
mote and unaccustomed localities. They then set my left 



82 



THE ONLY ONE INJURED. 



arm in two places, pulled mj right liip iuto its socket again, 
and re-elevated my nose. I was an object of great interest, 
and even admiration ; and many sincere and warm-hearted 
persons liad themselves introduced to me, and said they were 
proud to know the only man who had been hurt in a French 
duel in forty years. 

I was placed in an ambulance at the very head of the pro- 
cession ; and thus with gratifying eclat I was marched into 

I- 




AN OBJECT OF ADMIRATION. 



Paris, the most conspicuous figure in that great spectacle, 
and deposited at the hospital. 

The cross of the Legion of Honor has been conferred 
npon me. However, few escape that distinction. 

Such is the true version of the most memorable private 
conflict of the age. 

I have no complaints to make against any one. I acted for 
myself, and I can stand the consequences. Without boast- 
ing, I think I may pay I am not afraid to stand before a 
modern Fronch duelist, but as long as I keep in my right 
mind I will never consent to stand behind one again. 



CHAPTER IX. 

ONE day we took the train and went down to Mannheim 
to see King Lear played in German. It was a mistake. 
We sat in our seats three whole hours and never understood 
anything but the thunder and lightning ; and even that was 
reversed to suit German ideas, for the thunder came lirst and 
the lightning followed after. 

The behavior of the audience was perfect. There were no 
rustlings, or whisperings, or other little disturbances ; each 
act was listened to in silence, and the applauding was done 
after the curtain was down. Tlie doors opened at half past 
four, the play began promptly at half past five, and within 
two minutes afterward all who were coming were in their 
seats, and quiet reigned. A German gentleman in the train 
had said that a Shaksperian play was an appreciated treat in 
Germany and that we should find the house filled. It was 
true ; all the six tiers were filled, and remained so to the end, 
— which suggested that it is not only balcon^^ people who 
like Shakspeare in Germany, but those of the pit and tlie 
gallery, too. 

Another time, we went to Mannheim and attended a shiv- 
aree, — otherwise an opera, — the one called Lohengrin. The 
banging and slamming and boommo; and crashing were some- 
thing beyond belief. The racking and pitiless pain of ic 
remains stored up in my memory alongside the memory of 

83 



84 



THE OUCUESTRA. 




the time that I had my teeth fixed. There were circum- 
Btances which made it necessary for me to stay through tlie 
four hours to the 6nd, and I staid ; but the recollection of 

that long, dragging, re- 
lentless season of sufi'ering 
is indestructible. To 
have to endure it in silence, 
and sitting still, made it 
all the harder. I was in a 
railed compartment with 
eicrht or ten strangers, of 
the two sexes, and this 
compelled repression , yet 
at times the pain was so 
exquisite that I could 
\VAGNER. hardly keep the tears back. 

At those times, as the bowlings and wailings and shriekings 
of the singers, and the ragings and roarings and explosions 
of the vast orchestra rose higher and higher, and wilder and 
wilder, and fiercer and fiercer, I 
could have cried if I had been alone. 
Those strangers would not have 
been surprised to see a nuin do such 
a thing who was being gradually 
skinned, but they would have mar- 
veled at it here, and made remarks 
about it no doubt, wdiereas there was 
nothing in the present case which 
was an advantage over being 
skinned. There was a wait of half 
an hour at the end of the first act, and I could have gone 
out and rested during that time, but I could not trust myself 
to do it, for I felt that I should desert and stay out. There 
was another wait of half an hour toward nine o'clock, but 1 
had gone through so much by that time that I had no spirit 
left, and so had no desire but to be let alone. 




A CURIOUS PLAY 



85 




I do not wish to suggest that the rest of the people there 
were like me, for indeed they were not. Whether it was 
that they naturally liked that noise, or whether it was that 
they had learned to like it 
by getting used to it, I did 
not at that time know ; but 
they did like it, — this was 
plain enough. While it 
was going on they sat and 
looked as rapt and grateful 
a^cats do when one strokes 
their backs ; and whenever 
the curtain fell they rose 
to their feet, in one solid 
mighty multitude, and the 
air was snowed thick with 
waving handkerchiefs, and koaring. 

hurricanes of applause swept the place. This was not com- 
prehensible to me. Of course there were many people there 
who were not under compulsion to stay ; yet the tiers were 
as full at the close as they had been at 
the beo^innino;. This showed that the 
people liked it. 

It was a curious sort of a play. In 
the matter of costumes and scenery it 
was tine and showy enough ; but there 
was not much action. Tliat is to say, 
there was not much really done, it was 
only talked about ; and always violently. 
It was what one might call a narrative 
play. Everybody had a narrative and 
a grievance, and none were reasonable 
an offensive and ungovernable state. 
There was little of that sort of customary thing where the 
tenor and the soprano stand down by the footlights, warb- 
ling, with blended voices, and keep holding out their arms 




SHRIEKING. 

about it but all in 



86 



THE OPERA. 



toward each other and drawing them back and spreading 
both hands over first one breast and then the other with a 
shake and a pressure, — no it was, evcvj rioter for himself 

and no blending. 
Each sang his in- 
dictive narrative in 
turn, accompanied 
bj the whole or- 
chestra of sixty in- 
s t r u m e n t s , and 
when this had con- 
tinued for some 
time, and one was 
hoping they might 
come to an under- 
standing and modify 
the noise, a great 
e h o r u s composed 
entirely of maniacs 
would suddenly 
break forth, and 
then during two 
minutes, and some- 
times three, I lived over again all that I had suffered the 
time the orphan asylum burned down. 

We only had one brief little season of heaven and heaven's 
sweet ecstasy and peace during all this long and diligent and 
acrimonious reproduction of the other place. This was 
while a gorgeous procession of people marched around and 
around, in the third act, and sang the Wedding Chorus. To 
my untutored ear that was music, — almost divine music. 
While my seared soul was steeped in the healing balm of those 
gracious sounds, it seemed to me that I could almost re-suifer 
the torments which had gone before, in order to be so healed 
again. There is where the deep ingenuity of the operatic 
idea is betrayed. It deals so largely in pain tiiat its scattered 




A CUSTOMARY THING. 



AN ENCHANTING STUDY, 



87 



deliglits are prodigiously augmented by the contrasts. A 
pretty air in an opera is prettier there than it could be anj'- 
where else, I suppose, just as an honest man in politics shines 
more than he would elsewhere. 

I have since found out that there is nothing the Germans 
like so much as an opera. They like it, not in a mild and 
moderate way, but with their whole hearts. This is a legiti- 
mate result of habit and education. Our nation will like the 
opera, too, by and by, no doubt. One in fifty of those who 
attend our operas likes it already, perhaps, but I think a good 
many of the other forty-nine go in order to learn to like it, 
and the rest in order to be able to talk knowingly about it. 
The latter nsually hum the airs while they are being sung, 
so that their neighbors may 
perceive that they have been 
to operas before. The fnne- 
rals of these do not occur 
often enough. 

A gentle, old-maidish, 
person and a sweet young 
girl of seventeen sat right in 
front of us that night at the 
Mannheim opera. These 
people talked, between the "^z 
acts, and I understood them, 
though I understood nothing one of the rest. 

that was uttered on the distant stage. At first they were 
guarded in their talk, but after they had heard my agent 
and me conversing in English they dropped their reserve 
and I picked up many of their little confidences ; no, I mean 
many of her little confidences, — meaning the elder party, — 
for the young girl only listened, and gave assenting nods, 
but never said a word. How pretty she M^as, and how sweet 
she was ! I wished she would speak. But evidently she was 
absorbed in her own thoughts, her own young-girl dreams, 
and found a dearer pleasure in silence. But she was not 




MORE THAN AN AVERAGE. 



dreaming sleepy dreams, — no, she was awake, alive, alert, 
she could not sit still a moment. She was an enchanting 
study. Her gown was of a soft white silky stuff that clung 
to her round young hgure like a iish's skin, and it was rip- 
pled over with the gracefullest little fringy films of lace; 
she had deep, tender eyes, with long, curved lashes ; and 
she had peachy cheeks, and a dimpled chin, and such a dear 
little dewy rosebud of a mouth ; and she was so dove-like, 
so pure, and so gracious, so sweet and bewitching. For 
long hours I did mightily wish she would speak. And at 
last she did ; the red lips parted, and out leaped her thought, 
— and with such a guileless and pretty enthusiasm, too: 
'• Auntie, I just know I've got five hundred fleas on me !" 

That was probably over the average. Yes, it must have 
been very much over the average. The average at that time 
in the Grand Duchy of Baden was forty-five to a young per- 
son, (when alone,) ac- 
cording to the ofiicial 
estimate of the Home 
Secretary f or that 
year; the avernge for 
older people wasi^hifty 
and indeterminable, 
for whenever a whole- 
some young girl came 
into the presence of 
her elders she immedi- 
ately lowered their av- 
erage and raised her 
own. She became a 
sort of contribution 
box. This dear young 
thing in the theatre had 
been sitting there un 
A CONTRIBUTION BOX. cousclously takiug up 

a coUecrion. Many a skinny old being in our neighborhood 
was the happier and the restf uller for her coming. 




UNPLEASANTLY CONSPICUOUS 



89 



II l^ill 



111 tliat large audience, that mglit, there were eight very- 
conspicuous people. These were ladies who had their hats 
or bonnets on. What a blessed thing it M'ould be if a lady 
could make herself conspicuous in our theatres by wearing 
her hat. It is not usual in Eu 
rope to allow ladies and gentle 
men to take bonnets, hats, over 
coats, canes or umbrellas into the 
auditorium, but in Mannlieim 
this rule was not enforced be- 
cause the audiences were large- 
ly made up of people from a 
distance, and among these were 
always a few timid ladies who 
were afraid that if they had to 
go into an ante-room to get their 
things when the play was over, 
they would miss their train. 
But the great mass of those 
who came from a distance always 
ran the risk and rook the chances, preferi'ing the loss of the 
train to a breach of good manners and the discomfort of 
being unpleasantly conspicuous during a stretch of three or 
four hours. 




CONSPICUOUS. 




CHAPTER X. 

THREE or four hours. That is a long time to sit in onp 
place, whether one be conspicuous or not, jet some of 
Wagner's operas bang along for six whole hours on a stretch ! 
But the people sit there and enjoy it all, and wish it would 
last longer. A German lady in Munich told me that a person 
could not like Wagner's music at first, but must go through 
the deliberate process of learning to like it, — then lie would 
have his sure reward ; for when he had learned to like it he 
would hunger for it and never be able to get enough of it. 
She said that six hours of Wagner was by no means too 
much. She said that this composer had made a complete 
revolution in music and was burying the old masters one by 
one. And she said that Wagner's operas differed from all 
others in one notable respect, and that was that they were 
not merely spotted with music here and there, but were all 
music, from the first strain to the last. This surprised me. 
I said I had attended one of his insurrections, and found 
hardly any music in it except the Wedding Chorus. She 
said Lohengrin was noisier than Wagner's other operas, but 
that if I would keep on going to see it I would find by and 
by that it was all music, and therefore would then enjoy it. 
1 could have said, " But would you advise a person to delib- 
erately practice having the toothache in the pit of his stom- 

90 



A WONDERFUL SINGER— ONCE. 91 

ach for a conple of years in order tliat he might then come 
to enjoy it?" But I reserved that remark. 

This lady was full of the praises of the head-tenor who had 
performed in a Wagner opera the night before, and went on 
to enlarge upon his old and prodigious fame, and how many 
honors had been lavished upon him by the princely houses 
of Germany. Here was another surprise. I had attended 
that very opera, in the person of my agent, and had made 
close and a'?curate observations. So I said : — 

" Why madam, my experience warrants me in stating that 
that tenor's voice is not a voice at all, but only a shriek, — 
the shriek of a hyena." 

" That is very true," she said ; " he cannot sing now ; it 
is already many years that he has lost his voice, but in other 
times he sang, yes, divinely ! So whenever he comes, now, 
you shall see, yes, that the theatre will 
not hold the people. Jawohl hei Gott! 
his voice is wunderschon in that past 
time." 

I said she was discovering to me a 
kindly trait in the Germans which was 
worth emulating. I said that over the 
water we were not quite so generous; 
that with us, when a singer had lost his 
voice and a jumper had lost his legs, 
these parties ceased to draw. I said I / / v / 
had been to the opera in Hanover, once, oi^lt a shriek. 
and in Mannheim once, and in Munich, (through my author- 
ized agent,) once, and this large experience had nearly ])er- 
suaded me that the Qevmaxis, preferred singers M'^ho couldn't 
sing. This was not such a very extravagant speech, either, 
for that burly Mannheim tenor's praises had been the talk 
of all Heidelberg for a week before his performance took 
place, — yet his voice was like the distressing noise which a 
nail makes when you screech it across a window pane. I 
said so to Heidelberg friends the next day, and they said, in 
6 




92 



THE SUPERANNUATED TENOR. 



the calmest and simplest way, that that was very true, but 
that in earlier times his voice had been wonderfully line. 
And the tenor in Hanover was just another example of tliis 
sort. The English-speaking German gentleman who went 
with me to the opera there was brimming with enthusiasm 
over that tenor. He said : — 

" Ach Goit ! a great man ! You shall see him. He is so 
celebrate in all Germany, — and he has a pension, yes, from 
the government. He not obliged to sing, now, only twice 
every year; but if he not sing twice each year they take him 
his pension away." 

Yery well, we went. When the renowned old tenor ap- 
peai-ed, I got a nudge and an excited whisper : — 

" Now you see him ! " 
■ But the "celebrate" was an astonishing disappointment 
to me. \i he had been behind a screen I should have sup- 
posed they were performing a surgical 
operation on him. I looked at my 
friend, — to my great surprise he seemed 
intoxicated with pleasure, his eyes M'ere 
dancing with eager delight. When the 
curtain at last fell, he burst into the 
stornjiest applause, and kept it up, — as 
did the whole house, — until the afflictive 
tenor had come three times before the 
curtain to make his bow. While the 
glowing enthusiast was swabbing the 
perspiration from his face, I said : — 
" I don't mean the least harm, but really, now, do you 
think he can sing? " 

"Him ? No ! Gott im Himmcl, aber, how he has l)een able 
to sing twenty-five years ago ? " [Then pensively.] " Ach, no, 
710W he not sing any more, he only cry. When he think lie 
sing, now, he not ring at all, no, he only make like a eat 
which is unwell." 

Where and how did we get the idea that the Germans 




' HE ONLY CRY. 



EMOTIONAL GERMANS. 93 

are a stolid, phlegmatic race ? In trutli tliey are widely 
removed from that. Thej are warm-hearted, emotional, 
impulsive, enthusiastic, their tears come at the mildest touch, 
and it is not hard to move them to laughter. They are the 
very children ot impulse, t^e are cold and self-contained, 
compared to the Germans. They hug and kiss and cry and 
shout and dance and sing; and where we use one loving, 
petting expression they pour out a score. Their language 
is full of endearing diminutives; nothing that they love es- 
capes the application of a petting diminutive, — neither the 
house, nor the dog, nor the horse, nor the grandmother, 
nor any other creature, animate or inanimate. 

In the theatres at Hanover, Hamburg, and Mannheim, they 
had a wise custom. The moment the curtain went up, the 
lights in the body of the house went down. The audience 
sat in the cool gloom of a deep twilight, which greatly en- 
hanced the glowing splendors of the stage. It saved gas, too, 
and people were not sweated to death. 

When I saw King Lear played, nobody was allowed to see 
a scene shifted ; if there was nothing to be done but slide a 
forest out of the way and expose a temple beyond, one did 
not see that forest split itself in the middle and go shrieking 
away, with the accompanying disenchanting spectacle of the 
hands and heels of the impelling impulse, — no, the curtain 
was always dropped for an instant, — one heard not the least 
movement behind it, — but when it went up, the next instant, 
the forest was gone. Even when the stage was being entire!}' 
re-set, one heard no noise. During the whole time that 
King Lear was playing, the curtain was never down two min- 
utes at anj' one time. The orchestra played until the curtain 
was ready to go up for the first time, then they departed for 
the evening. Where the stage- waits never reach two minute^ 
there is no occasion for music. I had never seen this Lwo- 
minute business between acts but once before, and that was 
when the " Shaughran" was played at Wallack's. 

I was at a concert in Munich one night, the people were 



94 



liATE COxMERS REBUKED. 



streaming in, the clock-hand pointed to seven, the mnsic 
struck up, and instantly all movement in the body of the 
house ceased, — nobody was standing, or walking up the aisles 
or fumbling with a seat, the stream of incomers had suddenly 
dried up at its source. I listened undisturbed to a piece of 
music that was fifteen minutes long, — always expecting some 
tardy ticket-holders to come crowding past my knees, and 
being continuously and pleasantly disappointed, — but when 
the last note was struck, here came the stream again. You 
see, they had made those late comers M^ait in the comfortable 
waiting-parlor from the time the music had begun until it 
was ended. 

It was the first time I had ever seen this sort of crimi- 
nals denied the privilege of destroying the comfort of a 
house full of their betters. Some of these -were pretty 
fine birds, but no matter, they had to tarry outside in the 




LATE COMERS CARED FOR. 



long parlor under the inspection of a double rank of liver- 
ied footmen and waiting-maids who supported the two walls 



CUSTOMS AT THE OPERA. 95 

with their backs and held the wraps and traps of their masters 
and mistresses on their arms. 

We had no footmen to hold our things, and it was not 
permissible to take them into the concert room ; but there 
were some men and women to take charge of them for us. 
Thej gave us checks for them and chaiged a fixed price, 
payable in advance, — five cents. 

In Germany they always hear one thing at an opera which 
has never 3-et been heard in America, perhaps, — I mean the 
closing strain of a fine solo or duet. We always smash into 
it with an earthquake of applause. The result is that we 
rob ourselves of the sweetest part of the treat ; we get the 
whisky, but we don't get the sugar in the bottom of the 
glass. 

Our way of scattering applause along through an act seems 
to me to be better than the Mannheim way of saving it all 
up till the act is ended. I do not see how an actor can for- 
get himself and portray hot passion before a cold still audience. 
I should think he would feel foolish. It is a pain to me to 
this day, to remember how that old German Lear raged and 
wept and howled around the stage, with never a response 
from that hushed house, never a single outburst till the act 
was ended. To me there was something unspeakably un- 
comfortable in the solemn dead silences that always lollowed 
this old person's tremendous outpourings of his feelings. I 
could not help putting myself in his place, — I thought I knew 
how sick and flat he felt during those silences, because I 
remembered a case which came under my observation once, 
and which, — but I will tell the incident : 

One evening on board a Mississippi steamboat, a boy of 
ten years lay asleep in a berth, — a long, slim-legged boy, he 
was, encased in quite a short shirt ; it was the first time he 
had ever made a trip on a steamboat, and so he was troubled, 
and scared, and had gone to bed with his head filled with 
impending snaggings, and explosions, and conflagrations, and 
sudden death. About ten o'clock some twenty ladies were 



96 



A Ml!SSlS;3lPPl KlVEll STOKY. 



sitting around about the ladies' saloon, quietly reading, sew- 
ing, embroidering, and so on, and among tlienj sat a sweet, 
benignant old dame with round spectacles on her nose and 
her busy knitting-needles in her hands. Now all of a sudden, 
into the midst of this peaceful scene burst that slim-shanked 
boy in the brief shirt, wild-eyed, erect-haired, and shouting, 




EVIDENTLY DKEAMINQ. 



" Fire, fire ! jump and ru7i, the hoafs afire and there ainH a 
minute to lose ! " All those ladies looked sweetly up and 
smiled, nobody stirred, the old lady pulled her spectacles 
down, looked over them, and said, gently,— 

"But you mustn't catch cold, child. Run and put on your 
breast-pin, and then come and tell us all about it." 

It was a crnel chill to give to a poor little devil's gush- 
ing vehemence. He was expecting to be a sort of hero — the 
creator of a wild panic — and here everybody sat and smiled 
a mocking smile, and an old woman made fun of his bugbear. 
I turned and crept humbly away — for I was that boy — and 
never even cared to discover whether I had dreamed the fire 
or actually seen it. 

I am told that in a German concert or opera, they hardly 
ever encore a song; that though they may be dying to hefir 
it again, their good bi-eeding usually preserves them against 
requiring the repetition. 



AN ECCENTRIC KING. 97 

Kings may encore ; that is quite another matter ; it delights 
everybody to see that the king is pleased ; and as to the ac- 
tor encored, his pride and gratification are simply bonndless. 
Still, there are circumstances in which even a royal encore — 

But it is better to illustrate. The King of Bavaria is a 
poet, and has a poet's eccentricities — with the advantage over 
all other poets of being able to gratify them, no matter what 
form they may take. He is fond of the opera, but not fond 
of sitting in the presence of an audience ; therefore, it has 
sometimes occurred, in Munich, that when an opera has been 
concluded and the players were getting off their paint and 
finery, a command has come to them to get their paint and 
finery on again. Presently the king would arrive, solitary 
and alone, and the plaj^ers would begin at the beginning 
and do the entire opera over again with only that one indi- 
vidual in the vast solemn theatre for audience. Once he took 
an odd freak into his head. High up and out of sight, over 
the prodigious stage of the court theatre is a maze of inter- 
lacing water-pipes, so pierced that in case of fire, innumer- 
able little thread-like streams of water can be caused to de- 
scend ; and in case of need, this discharge can be augmented 
to a pouring flood. American managers might make a note 
of that. The King was sole audience. The opera pro- 
ceeded, it was a piece with a storm in it ; the mimic thunder 
began to mutter, the mimic wind began to wail and songh, 
and the mimic rain to patter. The King's interest rose 
higher and higher ; it developed into enthusiasm. He cried 
out, — 

" It is good, very good indeed ! But I will have real rain ! 
Turn on the water ! " 

The manager pleaded for a reversal of the command ; 
said it would ruin the costly scenery and the si)lendid 
costumes, but the king cried,- — 

"!No matter, no matter, I will have real rain! Turn on 
the water?" ( 

So the real rain was turned on and began to descend in 
gossamer lances to the mimic flower beds and gravel walks 



98 "ENCORE! DO IT AGAIN!" 

of the stage. The richly-dressed actresses and actors tripped 




"turn on more rain." 
about singing bravely and pretending not to mind it. The 
King was delighted, — his enthusiasm grew higher. He cried 
out. — 

" Bravo, bravo ! More thunder ! more lightning ! turn on 
more rain ! " 

The thunder boomed, the lightning glared, the storm- 
winds raged, the deluge poured down. The mimic royalty 
on the stage, with their soaked satins clinging to their bodies, 
slopped aronnd ankle deep in water, warbling their sweetest 
and best, the fiddlers under the eaves of the stage sawed 
awaj' for dear life, with the cold overflow sponting down the 
backs of their necks, and the dry and happy King sat in his 
lofty box and wore his gloves to ribbons applauding. 

" More yet I" cried the King ; "more yet, —let loose all the 
thunder, turn on all the water ! I will hang the man that 
raises an umbrella ! " 

When this most tremendous and effective storm that had 
ever been produced in any theatre was at last over, the 
Kingj's approbation was measureless. He cried, — 

''Magnificent, magnificent! JEncorel Do it again!" 



MAGNANIMITY OF THE KING. 



99 



. But the manager succeeded in persuading him to recall the 
encore, and said the company would feel sufficiently rew arded 
and complimented in the mere fact that the encore was desir- 
ed by his Majesty, without fatiguing him with a repetition 
to gratify their own vanity. 

During the remainder of the act the lucky performers were 
those whose parts required changes of dress ; the others were 
a soaked, bedraggled 
and uncomfortable lot, 
but in the last degree 
picturesque. The stage 
scenery was ruined, 
trap-doors were s c 
swollen that the} 
wouldn't work for a 
week afterward, t h ( 
fi n e costumes were 
spoiled, and no end of 
minor damages were 
done by that remark- 
able storm. 

It was a roy al idea — 
that storm — and royal- 
ly carried out. But 
observ^e the moderation 
of the king: he did not 

insist upon his encore. harris Ar^JiNl>l^G iHi; utt^HA. 

If he had been a gladsome, unreflecting American opera-audi- 
ence, he probably would have had his storm repeated and 
repeated until he drowned all those people. 




L.ofC. 



CHAPTEK XI. 

TEIE summer days passed pleasantly in Heidelberg. "We 
had a skilled trainer, and under his instructions we were 
getting our legs in the right condition for the contemplated 
pedestrian tours ; we were well satisfied with the progress 
which we had made in the German language*, and more 
than satisfied with what we had accomplished in Art. We 
had had the best instructors in drawing and painting in 
Germany. — Hiimmerling, Yogel, Miiller, Dietz and Schu- 
mann. Hiimnierling taught us landscape painting, Vogel 
taught us figure di'awing, Miiller taught us to do still-life, 
and Dietz and Schumann gave us a finishing course in two 
specialties, — battle-pieces and shipwrecks. "Whatever I am 
in Art I owe to these men. I have something of the manner 
of each and all of them ; but they all said that I had also a 
niHuner of my own, and that it was conspicuous. They said 
there was a marked individuality about my style, — insomuch 
that if I ever painted the commonest type of a dog, I should 
be sure to tlirow a something into the aspect of that dog 
which would keep him from being mistaken 'for the creation 
of any other artist. Secretly I wanted to believe all thefe 
kind sayings, but I could not ; I was afraid that my masters' 
partiality for me, and pride in me, biased their judgment. 
So I resolved to make a test. Privately, and unknown to 
any one, I painted ray great picture, " Heidelberg Castle 

* See Appendix D for information concerning this fearful tongue. 

100 



OUR STUDIO. 



101 



Illuminated," — my first really important work in oils, — and 
had it hung up in the midst of a wilderness of oil pictures in 
the Art Exhibition, with no name attached to it. To my 
great gratification it was instantly recognized as mine. All 
the town flocked to see it, and people even came from neigh- 
boring localities to visit it. It made more stir than any other 
work in the Exhibition. But the most gratifying thing of 




PAINTING MY GREAT PICTURE. 

all, was, that chance strangers, passing through, who had not 
heard of my picture, were not only drawn to it, as by a lode- 
stone, the moment they entered the gallery, but always took 
it for a " Turner." 

Mr. Harris was graduated in Art about the same time with 
myself, and we took a studio together. We waited awhile 
for some orders; then as time began to drag a little, we 



102 A PROPOSED PEDESTRIAN TOUR. 

concluded to make a pedestrian tour. • After much considera^ 
tion, we determined on a trip up the shores of the beautiful 
ISTeckar to Heilbronn. Apparently nobody had ever done 
that. There were ruined castles on the overhanging cliffs 
and crags all the way ; these were said to have their legends, 
like those on the Rhine, and what was better still, they had 
never been in print. There was nothing in the books about 
that lovely region ; it had been neglected by the tourist, it 
was virgin soil for the literary pioneer. 

Meantime the knapsacks, the rough walking suits and the 
stout walking shoes which we had ordered, were finished and 
brought to us. A Mr. X. and a young Mr. Z. had agreed to go 
with us. We went around, one evening and bade good-bye 
to our friends, and afterwards had a little farev^ell banquet 
at the hotel. We got to bed early, for we wanted to make 
an early start, so as to take advantage of the cool of the 
morning. 

We were out of bed at break of day, feeling fresh and 
vigorous, and took a hearty breakfast, then plunged down 
through the leafy arcades of the Castle grounds, toward the 
town. What a glorious summer morning it was, and how 
the flowers did pour out their fragrance, and how the birds 
did sing! It was just the time for a tramp through the 
woods and mountains. 

We were all dressed alike : broad slouch hats, to keep the 
sun off; gray knapsacks; blue army shirts; blue overalls; 
leathern gaiters buttoned tight from knee down to ankle ; 
high-quarter coarse shoes snugly laced. Each man had an 
opera glass, a canteen, and a guide-book case slung over his 
shoulder, and carried an alpen-stock in one hand and a sun 
umbrella in the other. Around our hats were wound many 
folds of soft white muslin, with the ends hanging and flapping 
down our backs, — an idea brouglit from the Orient and used 
by tourists all over Europe. Harris carried the little watch- 
like machine called a " pedometer," whose office is to keep 
count of a man's steps and tell how far he has walked. Every- 
body stopped to admire our costumes and give us a hearty: 



ENGLISH INVARIABLY SPOKEN. 



lOS 



" Pleasant march to you ! " 

When we got down town I found that we could go by 
rail to within five miles 
of Heilbronn. The 
train was just starting, 
so we jumped aboard 
and went tearing away 
in splendid spirits. It 
was agreed all around 
that we had done wisely, 
because it would be just 
as enjoyable to walk 
down the Neckar as up 
it, and it could not be 
needful t o walk both 
ways. There were some 
nice German people in<^ 

our compartment. I ^~\^^^^^T'^^s^ 
got to talking some ^ \ ^^ 




pretty private matters 



OUU START, (by HARKIS.) 



presently, and Harris became nervous ; so he nudged me 
and said, — 

" Speak in German, — these Germans may understand 
English." 

I did so, and it was well I did ; for it turned out that 
there was not a German in that party who did not under- 
stand English perfectl} . It is curious how wide-spread our 
language is in Germany. After a while some of those folks 
got out and a German gentleman and his two young daugh- 
ters got in. I spoke in German to one of the latter several 
times, but without result. Finally she said, — 

'Ich verstehe nur Deutch und Englische," — or words to 
that efi'ect. That is, " I don't understand any language but 
German and English." 

And sure enough, not only she but her father and sister 
spoke English. So after that we had all the talk we wanted ; 
and we wanted a good deal, for they were very agreeable 



lOi 



A QUEER TOWER. 



people. They were greatly interested in our costumes ; es- 
pecially the alpenstocks, for they had not seen any before. 
They said that the 
Neckar road was per- 
fectly level, so we 
must b-e going to 
Switzerland or some 
other rugged country; 
and asked us if we did 
not find the walking 
pretty fatiguing in 
such warm weather 
But we said no. 

We reached Wimp- 
fen, — I think it was 
Wimpfen, — in about 
three hours, and got 
out, not the least tired; 
found a good hotel 
and ordered beer and 
dinner, — then took an unknown costume. 

a stroll through the venerable old village. It was very 
picturesque and tumble-doMm, and dirty and interesting. It 
had queer houses five hundred years old, in it and a military 
tower, 115 feet high, which had stood there more than ten 
centuries. I made a little sketch of it. I kept a copy, but 
gave the original to the Burgomaster. I think the original 
was better than the copy, because it had more windows in it 
and the grass stood up better and had a brisker look, Thci-e 
was none around tlie tower though ; I composed the grass 
myseF, from studies I made in a field by Heidelberg in Tlam- 
rrierliiig's time. The man on top, looking at the view, is 
apparently too large, but I found he could not be made 
smaller, conveniently. I wanted him there, and I wanted 
him visible, so I thought out a way to manage it ; I com- 
posed the picture from two points of view ; the spectator is 
to observe the man from about where that flag is, and he must 




A SLOW BUT SURE TEAM. 



105 



observe the tower itself from the ground. This harmonizes 
the seeming discrepancy. 

Near an old Cathedral, 
under a shed, were three 
crosses of stone, — mouldy and 
damaged things, bearing life- 
size stone figures. The two 
thieves were dressed in the 
fanciful court costumes of the 
middle of the sixteenth cen- 
tury, while the Savior was 
nude, with the exception of 
a cloth around the loins. 

We had dinner under the 
green trees in a garden 
belonorino; to the hotel and 
overlooking the Neckar; the towbr. 

then, after a smoke, we went to bed. We had a refreshing 
nap, then got up about three in the afternoon and put on our 
panoply. As we tramped gaily out at the gate of the town, 
we overtook a peasant's cart, partly laden with odds and ends 
of cabbages and similar vegetable rubbish, and drawn by a 





SLOW BUT SURE. 

small cow and a smaller donkey yoked together. Ttwasa 
pretty slow concern, but it got us into Heilbronn before dark, 
— five miles, or possibly it was seven. 



106 A FAMOUS ROOM. 

We stopped at the ver}^ same inn which the famous old 
robber knight and rough fighter, Gotz von Berlichingen, 
abode in after he got out of captivity in the Square Tower 
of Heilbronn between three hundred and iiftj and four hun- 
dred years ago. Harris and I occupied the same room which 
he had occupied and the same paper had not all peeled off 
the walls yet. The furniture was quaint old carved stnff, 
tiill four hundred years old, and some of the smells were 
over a thousand. There was a hook in the wall, which the 
landlord said the terrilic old Gotz used to hang his iron 
hand on when he took it off to go to bed. This room was 
very large, — it might be called immense, — and it was on the 
first floor; which means it was in the second stor^^, for in 
Europe the houses are so high that they do not count tlie 
first story, else they would get tired climbing before they 
got to the top. The wall paper was a fiery red, with huge 
"•old figures in it, well smirclied by time, and it covered all 
the doors. These doors fitted so snugly and continued the 
figures of the paper so unbrokenly, that when they were 
closed one had to go feeling and searching along the wall to 
find them. There was a stove in the corner, — one of those 
tall, square, stately white porcelain things that looks like a 
monument and keeps you thinking of death when you ought 
to be enjoying your travels. The windows looked out on a 
little alley, and over that into a stable and some poultry and 
pig yards in the rear of some tenement houses. There 
were the customary two beds in the room, one in one end of 
it, the other in the other, about an old-fashioned brass- 
mounted, single-barreled pistol-shot apart. They were fully 
as narrow as the usual German bed, too, and had the Ger- 
man bed's ineradicable habit of spilling the blankets on the 
floor every time you forgot yourself and went to sleep. 

A round-table as large as King Arthur's stood in the cen- 
tre of the room ; while the M-aiters were getting ready to 
serve our dinner on it we all went out to see the renowned 
clock on the front of the municipal buildings. 



CHAPTER Xn. 

THE Hathhaus, or municipal building, is of the quaintest 
and most picturesque Middle- Age architecture. It has 
a massive portico and steps, before it, heavily balustraded, 
and adorned with life-size rusty iron knights in complete 
armor. The clock-face on the front of the building is very 
large and of curious pattern. Ordinarily a gilded angel 
strikes the hour on a big bell with a hammer ; as the striking 
ceases, a life-size figure of Time raises its hour-glass and turn<s 
it ; two golden rams advance and butt each other; a gilded 
cock lifts its wings ; but the main features are two great an- 
gels, who stand on each side of the dial with long horns at 
their lips ; it was said that they blew melodious blasts on 
these horns every hour, — but they did not do it for us. We 
were told, later, that they blew only at night, when the town 
was still. 

Within the liathhaus were a number of huge wild boar's 
heads, preserved, and mounted on brackets along the wall; 
they bore inscriptions telling who killed them and how many 
hundred years ago it was done. One room in the building 
was devoted to the preservation of ancient archives. There 
they showed us no end of aged documents ; some were signed 
by Popes, some by Tilly and other great Generals, and one 
was a letter written and subscribed by Gotz von Berlichingen 
in Heilbronn in 1519 just after his release from the Square 

Tower. ^^„ 

t, 107 



108 AN OLD KubBEU KMuHT. 

This fine old robber-knight was a devoutly and sincerely 
religious man, hospitable, charitable to the pooi', fearless in 
fight, active, enterprising, and possessed of a large and gen- 
erous nature. lie had in him a quality which was rare in 
that rough time, — the quality of being able to overlook 
moderate injuries, and of being able to forgive and forget 
mortal ones as soon as he had soundly trounced the authors 
of them. He was prompt to take up any poor devil's quarrel 
and risk his neck to right him. The common folk held him 
dear, and his memory is still green in ballad and tradition. 
He used to go on the highway and rob rich wayfarers ; and 
other times he would swoop down fi'om his high castle on the 
hills of the Neckar and capture passing cai-goes of merchan- 
dize. In his memoirs he piously thanks the Giver of all 
Good for remembering him in his needs and delivering sun- 
dry such cargoes into his hands at times when only special 
providences could have relieved him. He was a doughty 
warrior and found a deep joy in battle. In an assault upcn 
a stronghold in Bavaria when he was only twenty-three years 
old, his right hand was shot away, but he was so interested 
in the fight that lie did not observe it for a while. He said 
that the iron hand which was made for him afterward, and 
which he wore for more than half a century, was nearly as 
clever a member as the fleshy one had been. I was glad to 
get a fac-simile of the letter written by this fine old German 
Robin Hood, though I was not able to read it. He was a 
better artist with his sword than with his pen. 

"We went down by the river and saw the Square Tower. 
It was a very venerable structure, very strong, and very 
unornamental. There was no opening near the ground. 
They had to use a ladder to get into it, no doubt. 

We visited the principal church, also, — a curious old struct- 
ure, with a tower-like spire adorned with all sorts of grotesque 
images. The inner walls of the church were placarded with 
large mural tablets of copper, bearing engraved inscriptions 
celebrating the merits of old Heilbronn worthies of two or 
three centuries ago, and also bearing rudely painted efiigies 




THE ROBBER CHIEF. 



110 ANOTHER l.EUEND. 

of themselves and their families tricked out in the queer 
costumes ot those days. The head of the family sat in the 
foreground, and beyond him extended a shaiply receding 
and diminishing row of sons ; facing him tat his wife, and 
beyond her extended a long row of diminishing daughters. 
The family was usually large, but the perspective bad. 

Then we hired the hack and the horse which Gotz von 
Berlichingen used to use, and drove several n)iles into the 
country to visit the place called Weibertreu, — "Wife's Fidelity 
I suppose it means. It was a feudal castle of the Middle 
Ages. When we reached its neighborhood "we found it "was 
beautifully situated, but on top of a mound, or hill, round 
and tolerably steep, and about two hundred feet high. There- 
fore, as the sun was blazing hot, we did not climb up there, 
but took the place on trust, and observed it from a distance 
while the horse leaned up Mgainst a fence and rested. The 
place has no interest except that which is lent it by its legend, 
which is a very pretty one — to this effect : 

THE LKGEND. 

In the Middle Ages, a couple of young dukes, brothers, 
took opposite sides in one of the wars, the one lighting for 
the Emperor, the other against him. One of them owned 
the castle and village on top of the mound Mhich I have been 
speaking of, and in his nbsence his biother came with his 
knights and soldiers and began a siege. It was a long and 
tedious business, for the peo])le made a stubborn and faith- 
ful defense. But at last their supplies ran out and starvation 
began its woi'k ; more fell by hunger than by the missiles of 
the enemy. They by and by suriendercd, and begged fcr 
charitable terms. But the beleaguering prince was so incensed 
against them for their long resistance that he said he would 
spai-e none but the women and children, — all lie men should 
be put to the sword without exception, and all their goods 
destroyed. Then the women came and fell on their knees 
and beffffed for the liverf of their husbands. 

"No," said the prince, not a man of them shall escape 
alive; you yourselves, shall go with your children into house- 



A SORT OF MIRACLE. 



Ill 



less and friendless banishment; but that jon may not slarve 
I grant jon this one grace, that eacli woman iwny bear with 
her from this place as much of her most viihiable property 
as she is able to carry. 

Yery well, presently the gates swung ('pen and out filed 
those women cai-rying their husbands' on their shoulders. 
The besiegers, furious at the trick, rushed forward to slaugh- 
ter the men, but the Duke step- 
ped between and said, — 

" No, put up your swords, — 
a prince's word is inviolable." 
When we go!; back to the 
hotel, King Arthur's Round 
Table was ready for us in its 
white drapery, and the head 
waiter and his first assistant, inj 
swallow-tails and white cravats,' 
brought in the soup and the 
hot plates at once. 

Mr. X. had ordered the din- 
ner, and when the wine came 
on, he picked up a bottle, 
glanced at the label, and then 
turned to the grave, the mel- 
ancholy, the sepulchral head 
waiter and said it was not the 
sort of wine he had asked for. 
The head waiter ])icked up the 
bottle, cast his undertaker-eye 
on it and said, — 

" It is true; I beg pardon." 




AN nONKSTf MAM. 



Then he turned on his subordinate and calmly said,, " Bring 
another label." 

At the same time he slid the present label off' wtth hi? 
hand and laid it aside; it had been newly put on,. its paste 
was still wet. When the now label came, he put it on; our 
French wine being now turned inio German wine, according 



113 



AN OLD TOWN. 



to desire, the head waiter went blandly about his other 
dnties, as if the working of this sort of miracle was a com- 
mon and easy thing to him. 

Mr. X. said he had not known, before, that there were 
people honest enongh to do this miracle in public, but he 
was aware that thousands upon thousands of labels were 
imported into America from Europe every year, to enable 
dealers to famish to their customers in a quiet and inex- 
pensive way, all the different kinds of foreign wines they 

might require. 

W e t o o k a turn 
around the town, after 
dinner, and found it 
fully as interesting in 
the moonliiiht as it had 
been in the day time. 
The streets were nar- 
row and roughly paved, 
and there was not a 
sidewalk or a street 
lamp anywhere. The 
dwellings were centu- 
ries old, and vast 
enough for hotels. 
They widened all the 
\^ay up ; the stories 
projected further and 
further forward and 
aside as they ascended, 
and the long rows 

THE TOWN BY NIGHT. of lighted W 1 H d O W S, 

filled with little bits of panes, curtained with figured white 
muslin and adorned outside with boxes of flowers, made a 
pretty effect. The moon was bright, and the light and 
shadow very strong; and nothing could be more picturesque 
than those curving streets, with their rows of huge high 
galiles leaning far over toward each other in a Iriencly 




SWINGING CHILDREN. 



113 



gossipping way, and the croM'ds below drifting tlirougli the 
alternating blots of gloom and mellow bars of moonlight. 
Nearly everybody was abroad, chatting, singing, romping, 
or massed in lazy comfortable attitudes in the doorways. 

In one place there was a public building which w^as fenced 
about with a thick, rusty chain, which sagged from post to 
post in a succession of low swings. The pavement, here, 
was made of heavy blocks of stone. In the glare of the 
moon a party of barefooted*chi]dren M'ere swinging on those 
chains and having a noisy good time. They were not the 




GENERATIONS OF BARE FEET. 



first ones w^lio had done that ; even their great-great-grand- 
fathers had not been the first to do it when they were chil- 
dren. The strokes of the bare feet had worn grooves inches 
deep in the stone flags ; it had taken many generations of 
swinging children to accomplish that. Everywhere in the 
town were the mould and decay that go with antiquity, and 
evidence it ; but I do not know that anything else gave us 
so vivid a sense of the old age of Heilbronn as those foot- 
worn grooves in the paving stones. 



CHAPTER XITT. 

WHEl^ we got back to the hotel 1 wound and set tlie 
pedometer and put it in my pocket, for I was to 
carry it next day and keep record of the miles we made. 
The work which we had given the instrument to do during 
the day which had just closed, had not fatigued it percep- 
tibly. 

We were in bed by ten, for we wanted to be up and away 
on our tramp homeward with the dawn. I hung fire, but 
Harris went to sleep at once. I hate a man who goes to 
sleep at once; there is a sort of indefinable something about 
it which is not exactly an insult, and yet is. an insolence ; 
and one which is hard to bear, too. I lay there fretting over 
this injury, and trying to go to sleep ; but the harder I 
tried, the wider awake I grew. I got to feeling very lonely 
in the dark, with no company but an undigested dinner. 
My mind got a start by and by, and began to consider the 
beginning of every subject which has ever been thought of ; 
but it never went further than the beginning ; it was touch 
and go ; it fled from topic to topic with a frantic speed. At 
the end of an hour my head was in a, perfect whirl and I 
was dead tired, fagged out. 

The fatigue was so great that it presently began to make 
some head against the nervous excitement; while imagining 
myself wide awake, I would really doze into momentary 

114 



NERVOUS EXCITEMENT. 



115 



unconsciousnesses, and come suddenly out of them with a 
physical jerk which nearly 
wrenched my joints apart, 
— the dehision of the in- 
stant being that I was tumb- 
ling backwards over a prec- 
ipice. After I had fallen 
over eight or nine preci- 
pices and thus found out 
that one half of my brain 
had been asleep eight or 
nine times without the 
wide-awake, hard-working 
other half suspecting it, 
the periodical unconscious- 
nesses began to extend their 
spell gradually over more 
of my brain-territory, and 
at last I sank into a drowse 
which grew deeper and 
deeper and wa> doultUs- 
just on the ver^' point of 
becoming a solid, blessed, 
dreamless stupor, when, 
— what was that ? 

My dulled faculties drag- 
ged themselves partly back 
to life and took a receptive 
attitude. Now out of an 
immense, a limitless dis- 
tance, came a something 
which grew and grew, and 
approached, and presently 
was recognizable as a sound, 
— it had rather seemed to be a feeling, before. This sound 
was a mile away, now — perhaps it wasthemurnrirof a storm ; 
and now it was nearer, — not a quarter of a miie away ; was 




OUR BEDROOM. 



Xl^ AN OLD REMEDY. 

it the muffled rasping and grinding of distant machiner}' ? 
No, it came still nearer; was it the measured tramp of a 
marching troop? But it came nearer still, and still nearer, 
— and at last it was right in the room : it was merely a 
mout-e gnawing the wood-work. So 1 had held my breath 
all that time for such a trifle. 

Well, what was done could not be helped ; I would go to 
sleep at once and make up the lost time. That was a 
thoughtless thought. Without intending it, — hardly know- 
ing it, — I fell to listening intently to that sound, and even 
unconsciously counting the strokes of the mouse's nutmeg- 
grater. Presently 1 was deriving exquisite suffering from 
this employment, yet maybe I could have endured it if the 
mouse had attended steadily to his work ; but he did not 
do that ; he stopped every now and then, and I suffered 
more while waiting and listening for him to begin again 
than I did while he was gnawing. Along at first I was 
mentally offering a rcM'ard of five, — six, — seven, — ten — 
dollars for that mouse ; but toward the last I was offering 
rewards which were entirely beyond my means. I close- 
reefed my ears, — that is to say, I bent the flaps of them 
down and furled them into five or six folds, and pressed them 
against the hearing-orifice, — but it did no good : the faculty 
was so sharpened by nervous excitement that it was become 
a microphone and could hear through the overlays without 
trouble. 

My anger grew to a frenzy. I finally did M'hat all persons 
before me have done, clear back to Adam, — resolved to 
throw something. I reached down and got my w^alking 
shoes, then sat up in bed and listened, in order to exactly 
locate the noise. But I couldn't do it; it was as unlocatable 
as a cricket's noise ; and where one thinks that that is, is 
always the very place where it isn't. So I presently hurled 
a shoe at random, and with a vicious vigor. It struck the 
w^all over Harris's head and fell down on him ; I had not 
ima<nned I could throw so far. It woke Harris, and I was 



ALMOST DESPERATE. 



117 




glad of it until I found he was not angry ; then I wa> sorry. 
He soon went to sleep agiiin, which pleased me ; but straight- 
way the mouse began again, which roused my temper once 
more. I did not 
want to wake Har- 
ris a second time, 
bat the gnawing 
continued until I 
was Compelled to 
throw the other 
shoe. This time I 
broke a mirror, — 
there w^ere two in 
the room, — I got 
the largest one, of r^ 
course. H a r r i 
woke again, but did ,- 
not complain, and 
I was sorrier than practicing. 

ever. I resolved that I would sulfer all possible torture 
before I would disturb him a third time. 

The mouse eventually retirc'd, and by and by I was sink- 
ing to sleep, when a clock began to strike ; I counted, till it 
was done, and M-as about to drowse again when another 
clock began ; 1 counted ; then the two great Hatlihaus clock 
angels began to send forth soft, rich, melodious blasts from 
their long trumpets. I had never heard anything that was so 
lovely, or weird, or mysterious, — but when they got to blow- 
ing the quarter-hours, they seemed to me to be overdoing 
the thing. Every time I dropped off for a moment, a new 
noise woke me. Each time I woke I missed my coverlet, and 
had to reach down to the floor and get it again. 

At last all sleepiness forsook me. I I'ecognized the fact 
that I was hopelessly and permanently wide awake. Wide 
awake, and feverish and 'thirsty. Wlien I had lain tossing 
there as long as I could endure it, it occurred to me that it 



118 



A NIGHT EXCUESION. 



would be a good idea to dress and go out in the great square 
and take a refreshing wash in the fountain, and smoke and 
reflect there until the remnant of the night was gone. . 

I believed I could dress in the dark without waking Harris. 
I had banished my shoes after the mouse, but my slippers 
would do for a summer night. So I rose softly, and grad- 
ually got on everything, — down to one sock. I couldn't 
seem to get on the track of that sock, any way I could fix it. 
But I had to have it; so I went down on my hands and 
knees, with one slipper on and the other in my hand, and 




PAWING AROUND. 



began to paw gently around and rake the floor, but with no 
success. I enlarged my circh, and went on pawing and 
raking. With every pressure of my knee, how the floor 
creaked! and every time I chanced to rake against any arti- 
cle, it seemed to give out thirty-five or thirty-six times more 
noise than it would have done in the day time. In those 
cases I always stopped and held my breath till I was sure 
Harris had not awakened, — then' I crept along again. I 
moved on and on, but I could not find the sock ; I could not 
seem to find anything but furniture. I could not remember 



GROWING DESPERATE. 119 

that there was much furniture in the room when I went to 
bed, but the place was alive with it now, — especially chairs, 
^chairs everywhere, — liad a couple of families moved in, in 
the meantime? And I never could seem U) glance on one of 
those chairs, but always struck it full and square with my 
head. My temper rose, by steady and sure degrees, and as I 
pawed on and on, I fell to making vicious comments under 
my breath. 

Finally, with a venomous access of irritation, 1 said I would 
leave without the sock ; so I rose up and made straight 
for the door, — as I supposed, — and suddenly confronted my 
dim spectral image in the unbroken miiTor. It startled 
the breath out of me, for an instant; it also showed nip 
that I was lost, and had no sort of idea where I was. When 
I realized this, I was so angry that I had to sit down on the 
floor and take liold of something to keep from lifting the 
roof off with an explosion of opinion. If there liad been 
only one mirror, it might possibly have helped to locate me ; 
but there were two, and two were as bad as a thousand ; 
besides these were on opposite sides of the room. I could 
see the dim blur of the windows, but in my turned-around 
condition they were exactly where the}'^ ought not to be, and 
so they only confused me instead of helping me- 

I started to get up, and knocked down an umbrella ; it 
made a noise like a pistol-shot when it struck that hard, 
slick carpetless floor ; I grated my teeth and held my breath, 
— Harris did not stir. I set the umbrella slowly and care- 
fully on end against the wall, but as soon as I took my hand 
away, its heel slipped from under it, and down it came again 
with another bang. I shrunk together and listened a mo- 
ment in silent fury, — no harm done, everything quiet. With 
the most painstaking care and nicety I stood the umbrella 
up once more, took my hand away, and down it came again. 

I have been strictly reared, but if it had not been so dark 
and solemn and awful there in that lonely vast room, I do 
believe I should have said something then which could not 



120 ^ FRESH START. 

be put into a Sunday School book without injuring the sale 
of it. If mj reasoning powers liad not been already sapped 
dry by my harassnients, I would have known better than 
to try to set an umbrella on end on one of those glassy Ger- 
man floors in the dark ; it can't be done in the daytime with- 
out four failures to one success. I had one comfort, though, 
— Harris was yet stiJl and silent, ^he had not stirred. 

The umbrella could not locate me, — there were four stand- 
ing around the room, and all alike. I thought 1 would feel 
along the wall and find the door in that way. I rose up and 
began this operation, bflt I'aked down a picture. It was not a 
large one, but it made noise enough for a panorama. Harris 
gave out no sound, but I felt that if I experimented any 
further with the pictures I should be sure to wake him. 
Better give up trying to get out. Yes, I would And King 
Arthur's Round Table once more, — I had already found it 
several times, — and use it for a base of departure on an ex- 
ploring tour for my bed ; if I could find my bed I could 
then find my water pitcher; I would quench my raging 
thirst and turn in. So I started on my hands and knees, 
because I could go faster that way, and with more confi- 
dence, too, and not knock down things. By and by I found 
the table, — with my head, — rubbed the bruise a little, then 
rose up and started, with hands abroad and fingers sju'ead, 
to balance myself. I found a chair ; then the Avail ; then 
another chair; then a sofa; then an alpenstock, then an- 
other sofa ; this confounded me, for I had thought there was 
only one sofa. I hunted up the table again and took a fresh 
start ; found some more chairs. 

It occurred to me, now, as it ought to have done before, 
that as the talde was round, it was therefore of no value 
as a base to aim from ; so I moved off once more, and at 
random among tlie wilderness of chairs and sofas, — wander- 
ed off into unfamiliar regions, and presently knocked a 
candlestick off a mantel-piece; grabbed at the candle- 
stick and knocked off a lamp; grabbed at the lamp and 



BROUGHT TO A CRISIS. 



121 



knocked off a water-pitcher witli a rattling cr;isli, and thoiio-lit 
to myself, " I've found jou at last, — I judged I was close i poii 
you." Harris shouted "murder," and " thieves," and Unish- 
ed with " I'm abso- 
lutely drowned.'' 

The crash had 
roused the house. 
Mr. X. pranced 
in, in his long 
night garment, 
with a candle, 
young Z. after him 
with another can- 
d 1 e ; a procession 
swept in at another 
door, with candles 
and lantern s, — ■ 
landlord and two 
German guests in 
their nightgowns, 
and a chamber- 
maid in hers. 

I looked around ; 
I was at Harris's 
bed, a Sabbath 
day's journey from 
my own. There a night's wokk. 

was only one sofa ; it was against the wall ; there was only one 
chair where a body could get at it, — I had been revolving 
around it like a planet, and colliding wnth i like a comet 
half the niglit. 

I explained how I had been employing mj'self, and why. 
Then the landlord's party left, and the rest of us set about 
our preparations for breakfast, for the dawn was ready to 
break. I glanced furtively at my pedometer, and found 
I had made 47 miles. But I did not care, for I had come 
out for a pedestrian tour anyway. 




CHAPTER XTV. 

WHEN the landlord learned that I and my agent were 
artists, our party rose perceptibly in his esteem ; we 
rose still higher when he learned that we were making a 
pedestrian tour of Europe. 

He told us all about the Heidelberg road, and which were 
the best places to avoid and which the best ones to tarry at ; 
he charged me less than cost for the things 1 broke in the 
night ; he put up a fine luncheon for us and added to it a 
quantity of great light-green plums, the pleasaiitest fruit in 
Germany ; he was so anxious to do us honor that he would 
not allow us to walk out of Heilbronn, but called up Gotz 
von Berlichingen's horse and cab and made us ride. 

I made a sketch of the turn-out. It is not a Work, it is 
only what artists call a '' study " — a thing to make a finished 
picture from. This sketch has several blemishes in it; for 
instance, the wagon is not traveling as fast as the horse is. 
This is wrong. Again, the person trying to get out of the 
way is too small ; he is out of perspective, as we say. The 
two upper lines are not the horse's back, they are the reins ; 
— there seems to be a wheel missing — this would be correct- 
ed in a finished Work, of course. That thing flying out be- 
hind is not a flag, it is a curtain. That other thing up there 
is the sun, but I didn't get enough distance on it. I do not 

122 



OUR TURN-OUT. 



123 



remember, now, wliat that thing is that is in front of the man 

who is running, but I think it 
is a haystack or a woman. 
This study was exhibited in the 
Paris Salon of 1879, but did 
not take any medal; they do 
not give 'medals for studies. 

We discharged the cairiage 
at the bridge. The river was 
full of logs, — long, slender, 
barkless pine logs, — a n d we 
leaned on the rails of the 
bridge and watched the men 
put them together into rafts. 
These rafts were of a shape 
and construction t o suit the 
crookedness and extreme 
narrowness of the N ec k a r . 
They were from 50 to 10 
yards long, and they gradually 
tapered from a 9-log breadth 
at their sterns, to a 3-1 og 
breadth at their bow-ends. 
The main part of the steering 
is done at the bow, with a 
pole; the 3-log breadth there 
furnishes room for only the 
steersman, for these little logs 
are not larger around than an 
iverage young lady's waist. 
The connections of the several 
sections of the raft are slack 
and pliant, so that the raft may 
be readily bent into any sort of 
curve required by the shajje 
of the river. 
The Neckar is in many plaocs so narrow that a perron can 




124 THE NECKAR. 

throw a dog across it, if lie has one ; when it is also sharplj 
curved in such places, the raftsman has to do some pretty nice 
snng piloting to make the turns. The river is not always 
allowed to spread over its whole bed, — which is as much as^ 
30, and sometimes 40, yards wide, — but is split into three 
equal bodies of water, by stone dikes which throw the main 
volume, depth, and' current, into the central one. In low 
water these neat narrow-edged dikes project four or five 
inches above the surface, like the comb of a submerged roof, 
but in high water they are overflowed. A hatful of rain 
makes high water in the iN'eckar, and a basketful produces 
an overflow. 

There are dikes abreast the Schloss Hotel, and the current 
is violently swift at that point. I used to sit for hours in my 
glass cage, watching the long, narrow rafts slip along through 
the central channel, grazing the right-bank dike and aiming 
carefully for the middle arch of the stone bridge below ; I 
watched them in this way, and lost all this time hoping to 
see one of them hit the bridge-pier and wreck itself some- 
time or other, but was always disappointed. One was smash- 
ed there one morning, but 1 had just stepped into my room a 
moment to light a pipe, so I lost it. 

While I was looking down upon the rafts that morning in 
Heilbronn, the dare-devil spirit of adventure came suddenly 
upon me, and I said to my comrades, — 

" / am going to Heidelberg on a raft. "Will you venture 
with me ? " 

Their faces paled a little, but they aspented with as good 
a grace as they could. Harris wanted to cable his mother, 
— thought it his duty to do that, as he was all she had in this 
world, — so, M'hile he attended to this, I went down to the 
longest and finest raft and hailed the captain with a hearty 
" xVhoy, shipmate!" which put us upon pleasant terms at 
once, and we entered upon business. I said we were on a 
pedestrian tour to Heidelberg, and would like to take passage 
with him. I said this partly through young Z, who spoke 
German very well, and partly through Mr. X, who spoke it 



CHARTERING A RAFT. 125 

peculiarly. I can understand German as well as the maniac 
that invented it, but I talk it best through an interpreter. 

The captain hitched up his trowsers, then shifted his quid 
thoughtfully. Presently he said just what I was expecting 
he would say, — that he had no license to carry passengers, 




THE CAPTAIN. 



and therefore was afraid the law would be after him in case 
the matter got noised about or any accident happened. So 
T chartered the raft and the crew and took all the responsi- 
bilities on myself. 



126 VOYAGING ON A RAFT. 

"With a rattling song the starboard watch bent to their 
work and hove the cable short, then got the anchor home, 
and our bark moved off with a stately stride, and soon was 
bowling along at about two knots an hour. 

Our party were grouped amidships. At first the talk was 
a little gloomy, and ran mainly upon the shortness of life, 
the uncertainty of it, the perils which beset it, and the need 
and wisdom of being always prepared for the worst ; this 
shaded off into low-voiced references to the dangers of the 
deep, and kindred matters ; but as the gray east began to red- 
den and the mysterious solemnity and silence of the dawn 
ta give place to the joy-songs of the birds, the talk took a 
cheerier tone, and our spirits began to rise steadily. 

Germany, in the summer, is the perfection of the beauti- 
ful, but nobody has understood, and realized, and enjoyed 
the utmost possibilities of this soft and peaceful beauty un- 
less he has voyaged down the ISTeckar on a raft. The motion 
of a raft is the needful motion ; it is gentle, and gliding, and 
smooth, andnoiseless; it calms down all feverish activities, it 
soothes to sleep all nervous hurry and impatience ; under its 
restful influence all the troubles and vexations and sorrows 
that harass the mind vanish away, and existence becomes a 
dream, a charm, a deep and tranquil ecstasy. How it con- 
trasts with hot and perspiring pedestrianism, and dusty and 
deafening railroad rush, and tedious jolting behind tired 
horses over blinding white roads ! 

We went slipping silently along, between the green and 
fragrant banks, with a sense of pleasure and contentment 
that grew, and grew, all the time. Sometimes the banks 
were over-hung with thick masses of willows that wholly 
hid the ground behind ; sometimes we had noble hills on 
one hand, clothed densely with foliage totlieir tops, and on 
the other hand open levels blazing with poppies, or clothed in 
the rich blue of the corn-flower; sometimes we drifted in 
the shadow of forests, and sometimes along the margin of 
long stretches of velvety grass, fresh and green and bright, 
a tireless charm to the eye. And the birds ! — they were 



PLEASURES OF RAFTING. 



127 



everywhere ; tliej swept back and forth across the river con- 
stantly, and their jubilant music was never stilled. 

It was a deep and satisfying pleasure to see the sun create 
the new morning, and gradually, patiently, lovingly, clothe 
it on with splendor after splendor, and glory aftei- glory, till 
the miracle was complete. How different is this marvel 
observed from a raft, from what it is when one observes it 
through the dingy windows of a railway station in some 
wretched village while he munches a petrified sandwich and 
waits for the train. 




CHAPTER. XV. 

DOWN THE EIVEE. 

MEN and women and cattle were at work in the dewy 
fields by tins time. The people often stepped aboard 
the raft, as we glided along the grassy shores, and gossiped 
with ns and with the crew for a hundred yards or so, then 
stepped ashore again, refreshed by the ride. 

Only the men did this ; the women were too busy. The 
women do all kinds of work on the continent. They dig, 
they hoe, they reap, they sow, they bear monstrous burdens 
on their bacjvs, they shove similar ones long distances on 
wheelbarrows, they drag the cart when there is no dog or 
lean cow to drag it, — and Mdien there is, they assist the dog 
or cow. Age is no matter, — the older the woman, the strong- 
er she is, apparently. On the farm a woman's duties are not 
defined, — she does a little of everything ; but in the towns 
it is different, there she only does certain things, the men do 
the rest. For instance, a hotel chambermaid has nothing to 
do but make beds and fires in fifty or sixty rooms, bring • 
towels, and candles, and fetch several tons of water up sev- 
eral flights of stairs, a hundred pounds at a time, in prodi- 
gious metal pitchers. She does not have to work more than 
eighteen or twenty hours a day, and she can always get down 
on her knees and scrub the floors of halls and closets when 
she is tired and needs a rest. 

12S 



PLEASURES OF RAFTING. 



129 



As the morning advanced and the weather grew hot, we 
took off our outside clothing and sat in a row along the edge 
of the raft and enjoyed the scenery, with our sun nmhrellas 
over our heads and our legs dangling in the water. Every 




Vc^vtI^o^ 



"a deep and tranquil ecstasy." 

now and then we plunged in and had a swim. Every pro- 
jecting grassy cape had its joyous group of naked children, 
the boys to themselves and the girls to themselves, the latter 
usually in ^are of some motherly dame who sat in the shade 
of a tree with her knitting. The little boys swam out to us, 
sometimes, but the little maids stood knee deep in the water 
and stopped their splashing and frolicking to inspect the raft 
with their innocent eyes as it drifted by. Once we turned 
a corner suddenly and surprised a slender girl of twelve yeai's 
or upwards, just stepping into the water. She had not time 
to run, but she did what answered just as well ; slie promptly 
drew a lithe young willow bough athwart her white body 
with one hand, and then contemplated us with a simple and 
untroubled interest. Thus she stood while we glided by. 
She was a pretty creature, and she and her willow bough 
made a very pretty picture, and one which could not offend 
the modesty of the most fastidious spectator. Her M'hite 
skin had a low bank of fresh screen willows for background 



130 A CURIOUS STEAMER. 

and effective contrast,— for slie stood against them,— and 




" WHICH ANSWERED JUST AS WELL. 

above and out of them projected the eager faces and vv^hite 
shoulders of two smaller girls. 

Towards noon we heard the inspiriting cry, — 

" Sail ho ! " 

"Where away?" shouted the captain. 

" Three points oif the weather bow ! " 

We ran forward to see the vessel. It proved to be a 
steamboat, — for they had begun to rim a steamer up the 
Neckar, for the first time in May. She wag a tug, and one 
of very peculiar build and aspect. I had often watched her 
from the hotel, and wondered how she propelled herself, for 
apparently she had no propeller or paddles. She came 
churning along, now, making a deal of noise of one kind and 
another, and aggravating it every now and then by blowing 
a hoarse whistle. She had nine keel-boats hitched on behind 



A COMBINATION OF POWER. 13 i 

and following after her in a long, slender rank. We met her 
in a narrow place, between dikes, and there was hardly 
room for us both in the cramped passage. As she went 
grinding and groaning by, we perceived the secret of her 
moving impulse. She did not drive herself up the river with 
paddles or propeller, she pulled herself by hauling on a great 
chain. This chain is laid in the bed of the river and is only 
fastened at the two ends. It is seventy miles long. It 
comes in over the boat's bow, passes around a drum, and is 
payed out astern. She pulls on that chain, and so drags her- 
self up the river or down it. She has neither bow nor stern, 
strictly speaking, for she has a long-bladed rudder on each end 
and she never turns around. She uses loth rudders all the 
time, and they are powerful enough to enable her to turn to 
the right or the left and steer around curves, in spite of the 
strong resistance of the chain. I would not have believed 
that that impossible thing could be done ; but I saw it done, 
and therefore I know that there is one impossible thing 
which caTi be done. What miracle will man attempt next? 

We met many big keel boats on their w^ay up, using 
sails, mule power, and profanity — a tedious and laborious 
business. A wire rope led from the foretop mast to the file 
of mules on the tow-path a liundred yards ahead, and by 
dint of much banging and swearing and urging, the detach- 
ment of drivers managed to get a speed of two or three miles 
an hour out of the mules against the stiff current. The 
Neckar has always been used as a canal, and thuahas given 
employment to a great many men and animals; but now 
that this steamboat is able, with a small crew and a Imshel 
or so of coal, to take nine keel boats farther up the riv^r in 
one hour than thirty men and thirty mules can do it in two, 
it is believed that the old-fashioned towing industry is on its 
death-bed. A pecqnd steamboat began w^ork in the ISTeckar 
three months after the first one was put in service. 

At noon we stepped ashore and bought some bottled beer 
and got some chickens cooked, while the raft waited ; then 



132 



DINNER ON BOARD. 



we immediately put to sea again, and had our dinner while 
the beer was cold and the chickens hot. There is no pleas- 
anter place for such a meal than a raft that is gliding down 
the winding Neckar past green meadows and wooded hills, 
and slumbering villages, and craggy heights graced with 
crumbling towers and battlements. 

In one place we saw a nicely dressed German gentleman 



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LIFE ON A RAFT. 

without any spectacles. Before I could come to anchor he 
had got away. It was a great pity. I so wanted to make 
a sketch of him. The captain comforted me for my loss, 
however bv saying that the man was without any doubt a 
fraud who had spectacles, but kept them in his pocket in 
order to make himself conspicuous. 

Below Hassmersheim M^e passed Hornberg, Gotz von Ber- 
lichino-en's old castle. It stands on a bold elevation 200 feet 
above tlie surface of the river; it has high vine-clad walls 
enclosing trees, and a peaked tower about 75 feet high. 
The steep hillside, from the castle clear down to the water's 
edge, is terraced, and clothed thick with grape vines. This 
is "like farming a mansard roof, i^ll the steeps along that 
part of the river which furnish the proper exposure, are given 
up to the grape. That region is a great producer of Rhine 
wines. TJie Germans are exceedingly fond of Rhine wines ; 



THE CAVE OF THE SPECTRE. 



133 



they are put up in tall, slender bottles, and are considered 
a pleasant beverage. One tells them from vinegar by the 

l^bel. , IT., ., 

The Hornberg hill is to be tunneled, and the new rail- 
way will pass under the castle. 

THE CAVE OE THE SPECTKE. 

Two miles below Hornberg castle is a cave in a low cliff, 
which the captain of the raft said had once been occupied 
by a beautiful heiress of Hornberg,— the Lady Gertrude,— 
in the old times. It was seven hundred years ago. She had 
a number of rich and noble lovers and one poor and obscure 
one, Sir "Wendel Lobenfeld. 
With the native chuckleheaded- 
ness of the heroine of romance^ 
she preferred the poor and ob- 
scure lover. With the native 
sound judgment of the father 
of a heroine of romance, the von ^f^^'^^tlT^^Mp, 
Berlichingen of that day shut " 
his daughter up in his donjon 
keep, or his oubliette, or his "M^t .4 'k^W^j^ 
culverin , or some such place, lady gerteude. 

and resolved that she should stay there until she selected 
a husband from among her rich and noble lovers. The 
latter visited her and persecuted her with their supplications, 
but without effect, for her heart was true to her poor despised 
Crusader, wlio was figliting in the Holy Land. Finally she 
resolved that she would endure the attentions of the rich 
lovers no longer; so one stormy night she escaped and went 
down the river and hid herself in the cave on the other side. 
Her father ransacked the country for lier, but found not a 
trace of her. As the days went by, and still no tidings of 
her came, his conscience began to torture him, and he caused 
proclamation to be made that if she were yet living and 
would return, he would oppose her no longer, she might 




134 THE HAUNTED CAVE. 

marry whom she would. The months dragged on, all hope 
forsook the old man, he ceased from his customary pursuits 
and pleasures, he devoted himself to pious works, and longed 
for the deliverance of death. 

Now just at midnight, every night, the lost heiress stood 
in the mouth of her cave, arrayed in white robes, and sang a 
little love ballad which her Crusader had made for ller. She 
judged that if he came home alive the superstitious peasants 
would tell him about the ghost that sang in the cave, and 
that as soon as they described the ballad he -would know 
that none but he and she knew that song, therefore he would 
suspect that she was alive, and would come and find her. As 
time went on, the people of the region became sorely dis- 
tressed about the Spectre of the Haunted Cave. It was said 
that ill luck of one kind or another always overtook any one 
who had the misfortune to hear that song. Eventually, every 
calamity that happened thereabouts was laid at the door of 
that music. Consequently no boatman would consent to 
pass the cave at night ; the peasants shunned the place, even 
in the daytime. 

But the faithful girl sang on, night after night, month 
after month, and patiently waited ; her reward must come 
at last. Five years dragged by, and still, every night at 
midnight, the plaintive tones floated out over the silent land, 
while the distant boatmen and peasants thrust their fingers 
into their ears and shuddered out a prayer. 

And now came the Crusader home, bronzed and battle- 
scarred, but bringing a great and splendid fame to lay at the 
feet of his bride. The old lord of Hornberg received him as 
a son, and wanted him to stay by him and he the comfort 
and blessing of his age ; but the tale of that youngj girl's 
devotion to him and its pathetic consequences, made a changed 
man of the knight. He could not enjoy his well earned re?t. 
He said his heart was brokqn, he would give the remnant of 
his life to high deeds in the cause of humanity, and so find 
a worthy death and a blessed reunion with the brave true 




MOUTH OF THE CAVERN. 



THE CRUSADER LOVER. 



137 



heart whose love had more honored him than all his victories 
in war. 

When the people heard this resolve of his, they came and 
told him there was a pitiless dragon in human disguise in the 
Haunted Cave, a dread creature which no knight had yet 
been bold enough to face, and begged him to rid the land of 
its desolating presence. He said he would do it. They told 
him about the song, and when he asked what song it was, 
they said the memory of it was gone, for nobody had been 
hardy enough to listen to it for the past four years and more. 

Towards midnight the Crusader came floating down the 
river in a boat, with his trusty cross-bow in his hands. He 
drifted silently through the dim reflections of the crags and 
trees, with his intent eyes fixed upon the low cliff which he 
was approaching. As he drew nearer, he discerned the black 
mouth of the cave. Now, — is that a white figure ? Yes. 
The plaintive song begins to well forth and float away over 




A FATAL MISTAKE. 



meadow and river, — the cross-bow is slowly raised to position, 
a steady aim is taken, the bolt flies straight to the mark,—, 
the figure sinks down, still singing, the knight takes the wool 



138 



RESULTS OF THE TRAGEDY. 



out of his ears, and recognizes the old ballad, — too late ! Ah, 
if he had only not put the wool in his ears ! 

The Crusader went awaj to the wars again, and presently 
fell in battle, lighting for the Cross. Tradition says that 
during several centuries the spirit of the unfortunate girl 
sang nightly from the cave at midnight, but the music carried 
no curse with it; and although many listened for the myste- 
rious sounds, few were favored, since only those could hear 
them who had never failed in a trust. It is believed that the 
singing still continues, but it is known that nobody has heard 
it during the present century. 












»i»>irNG ON THE NECKAR. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

AN ANCIENT LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 

THE last legend reminds one of the "Lorelei " — a legend 
of the Rhine. There is a song called " The Lorelei." 

Germany is rich in folk-songs, and the words and airs of 
several of them are peculiarly beautiful, — but " The Lore- 
lei" is the people's favorite. I could not endure it at first 
but by and by it began to take hold of me, and now there 
is no tune which I like so well. 

It is not possible that it is much known in America, else I 
should have heard it there. The fact that I never heard it 
there, is evidence that there are others in my country who 
liave fared likewise ; therefore, for the sake of these, 1 mean 
to print the words and the music in this chapter. And I 
will refresh the reader's memory by printing the legend of 
the Lorelei too. I have it by me in the " Legends of the 
Rhine," done into English by the wildly gifted Garnham, 
Bachelor of Arts. I print the legend partly to refresh my 
own memory, too, for I have never read it before. 

THE LEGEND. 

Loi'e, (two syllables,) was a water nymph who used to sit 
on a high rock called Ley or Lei (pronounced like our word 
lie) in the Rhine, and lure boatmen to destruction in a furious 
rapid which marred the channel at that spot. She so be- 
witched them with her plaintive songs and her wonderful 
beauty that they forgot everything else to gaze up at her, 

140 



LOVE OF COUNT HERMANN. 



141 



and so they presently drifted among the broken reefs and were 

lost. 

In those old, old times, the count Bruno lived in a great 
castle near there with his son the count Hermann, a youth of 
twenty. Hermann had heard 
a great deal about the beauti- 
ful Lore, and had finally fallen 
very deeply in love with her 
without having yet seen her. 
So he used to wander to the 
neighborhood of the Lei, 
evenings, with his Zither and 
" Express his Longing in low 
Singing," as Garnham says. 
On one of these occasions, 
"suddenly there hovered 
around the top of the rock a 
brightness of unsqualed clear- 
ness and color, which, in in- 
creasingly smaller circles 
thickened, was the enchanting 
figure of the beautiful Lore. 

" An unintentional cry of 
Joy escaped the Youth, he let his Zither fall, and with extend- 
ed arms he called out the name of the enigmatical Being, who 
seemed to stoop lovingly to him and beckon to him in a 
friendly manner ; indeed, if his ear did not deceive him, she 
called his name with unutterable sweet Whispers, proper to 
love. Beside himself with delight the youth lost his Senses 
and sank senseless to the earth." 

After that he was a changed person. He went dreaming 
about, thinking only of his fairy and caring for naught else 
in the world. " The old count saw with affliction this change- 
ment in his son," whose cause he could not divine, and tried 
to divert his mind into cheerful channels, but to no purpose. 
Then the old count used authority. He commanded the 
9 




THE LOKELEI. 



142 A SERIOUS MISTAKE. 

youth to betake himself to the camp. Obedience was prom- 
ised. Gam ham says : 

" It was on the evening before his departure, as he wished 
still once to visit the Lei and offer to the Nymph of the Rhine 
his Sighs, the tones of his Zither, and his Songs. He went, 
in his boat, this time accompanied by a faithful squire, down 
the stream. The moon shed her silvery light over the whole 
Country ; the steep bank mountains appeared in the most 
fantastical shapes, and the high oaks on either side bowed 
their Branches on Hermann's passing. As soon as he ap- 
proached the Lei, and was aware of the surf-waves, his 
attendant was seized with an inexpressible Anxiety and he 
begged permission to land ; but the Knight swept the strings 
of his Guitar and sang: 

♦' Once I saw thee in dark night, 
In supernatural Beauty bright; 
Of Light-rays, was the Figure wove, 
To share its light, locked-hair -strove. 
•'Thy Garment color wave-dove. 
By thy hand the sign of love, 
Thy eyes sweet enchantment, 

Raying to me, oh ! entranccment. 
" O, wert thou but my sweetheart, 
How willingly thy love to part ! 
With delight I should be bound 

To thy rocky house in deep ground.** 

That Hermann shonld have gone to that place at all, was 
not wise ; that he should have gone with such a song as that 
in his mouth was a most serious mistake. The Lorelei did 
not ''call his name in unutterable sweet Whispers" this time. 
No, that song naturally worked an instant and thorough 
"changement" in her; and not only that, but it stirred the 
bowels of the whole afflicted region round about there, — 
for, — 

"Scarcely had these tones sounded, everywhere there be- 
gan tumult and sound, as if voices above and below the 
water. On the Lei rose flames, the Fairy stood above, as 



THE LORELEI. 



143 



that time, and beckoned with her right hand clearly and 
uro-ently to the infatuated Knight, while with a staff in her 
left she called the waves to her service. They began to 
mount heavenward; the boat was upset, mocking every ex- 
ertion ; the waves rose to the gunwale, and splitting on the 
hard stones, the Boat ^ 
broke into Pieces. 
The youth sank into 
the depths, but the 
squire was thrown on 
shore by a powerful 
wave." 

The bitterest things 
have been said about 
t h e Lorelei daring 
many centuries, but 
surely her conduct upon this 
occasion entitles her to our re- 
spect. One feels drawn ten- 
derly toward her and is moved 
to forget her many crimes 
and remember only the good 
deed that crowned and closed 
her career. 

" The Fairy was never more 
seen ; but her enchanting tones the lover's fate. 

have often been heard. Iti the beautiful, refreshing, still 
nights of spring, wdien the moon pours her silver light over 
the Country, the listening shipper hears from the rushing of 
the waves, the echoing Clang of a wonderfully charming 
voice, which sings a song from the crystal castle, and with 
sorrow and fear he thinks on the young Count Hermann, 
seduced by the N3^mph." 

Here is the music, and the German words by Heiiirich 
Heine. This song has been a favorite in Germany for forty 
years, and will remain a favorite always, maybe : 




fli 


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tm 
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on T" 1 




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n 


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00 


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f ili j- 


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QD -4 CM o6 5: 


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146 TRANSLATION OF THE WORDS. 

I have a prejudice against people who print things in a 
foreign language and add no ti'anslation. When I am the 
reader, and the author considers nie able to do the translating 
myself, he pays me quite a nice compliment, — but if he 
would do the translating for me I would try to get along 
without the compliment. 

If I were at home, no doubt I could get a translation of 
tliis poem, but I am abroad and can't ; therefore I will make 
a translation myself. It may not be a good one, for poetry 
is out of my line, but it will serve my purpose, — which is, 
to give the un-German young girl a jingle of words to hang 
the tune on until she can get hold of a good version, made 
by some one who is a poet and knows how to convey a poet- 
ical thought from one language to another. 

THE LOKELEI. 

I cannot divine what it meaneth, 

This haunting nameless pain : 
A tale of the bygone ages 

Keeps brooding through my brain : 
The faint air cools in the gloaming, 

And peaceful flows the Rhine, 
The thirsty summits are drinking 

The sunset's flooding wine; 
The loveliest maiden is sitting 

High-throned in yon blue air, 
Her golden jewels are shining, 

She combs her golden hair; 
She combs with a comb that is golden, 

And sings a weird refrain 
That steeps in a deadly enchantment 

The list'ner's ravished brain : 
The doomed in his drifting shallop, 

Is tranced with the sad sweet tone, 
He sees not the yawning breakers, 

He sees but the maid alone : 
The pitiless billows engulf him ! — 

So perish sailor and bark ; 
And this, with her baleful singing, 

Is the Lorelei's grewsome work. 



GARNHAM'S TRANSLATION. 147 

I have a translation by Garnliam, Bachelor of Arts, in the 
" Legends of the Khine," but it would not answer the pur- 
pose I mentioned above, because the measure is too nobly 
irregular; it don't fit the tune snugly enough; in places it 
hangs over at the ends too far, and in other places one runs 
out of words before he gets to the end of a bar. Still, Garn- 
ham's translation has high merits, and I am not dreaming of 
leaving it out of my book. I believe this poet is wholly 
unknown in America and England ; I take peculiar pleasure 
in bringing him forward because I consider that I discovered 
him : 

THE LORELEI. 

Translated by L. W. Garnliam^ B. A. 

I do not known what it signifies. 

That I am so sorrowful? 
A fable of old Times so terrifies, 

Leaves ray heart so thoughtful. 

The air is cool and it darkens, 

And calmly flows the Rhine ; 
The summit of the mountain hearkens 

In evening sunshine line. 

The most beautiful Maiden entrances 

Above wonderfully there, 
Her beauti'ul golden attire glances, 
She combs her golden hair. 

With golden comb so lustrous, 

And thereby a song sings, 
It has a tone so wondrous. 

That powerful melody rings. 

The shipper in the little ship 

It effects with woes sad might ; 
He does not see the rocky clip. 
He only regards dreaded height. 

I believe the turbulent waves 

Swallow at last shipper and boat; 
She with her singing craves 

All to visit her magic moat. 

No translation could be closer. He has got in all the facts : 



148 CATALOGUE OF PICTURES. 

and in their regular order too. Thei-e is not a statistic want 
ing. It is as succinct as an invoice. That is what a transla- 
tion ought to be ; it should exactly reflect the thought of the 
original. You can't sing " Above wonderfully there," because 
it simply won't go to the tune, without damaging the singer ; 
but it is a most clinginglj^ exact translation of Dort ohen wun- 
derhar, — fits it like a blister. Mr. Garnham's reproduction 
has other merits, — a hundred of them, — but it is not necessary 
to point them out. They wnll be detected. 

No one with a specialty can hope to have a monopoly of 
it. Even Garnham has a rival. Mr. X. had a small pamphlet 
with him which he had bought while on a visit to Munich. 
It was entitled "A Catalogue of Pictures in the Old Pin- 
acotek," and was written in a peculiar kind of English. Here 
are a few extracts: 

" It is not permitted to make use of the work in question 
to a publication of the same contents as well as to the pirated 
edition of it." 

" An evening landscape. In the foreground near a pond 
and a group of white beeches is leading a footpath animated 
I)y travelers." 

" A learned man in a cynical and torn dress holding an 
open book in his hand." 

"St. Bartholomew and the Executioner with the knife to 
fulfill the martyr." 

"Portrait of a young man. A long while this picture was 
thought to be Bindi Altoviti's portrait ; now somebody will 
again have it to be the self-portrait of Paphael." 

"Susan bathing, surprised by the two old man. In the 
background the lapidation of the condemned." 

(" Lapidation " is good ; it is much more elegant than 
" stoning.") 

" St. Kochus sitting in a landscape with an angel who looks 
at his plague-sore, whilst the dog the bread in his mouth 
attents him " 

" Spring. The Goddess Elora, sitting. Behind her a 
fertile valley perfused by a river." 



CATALOGUE CONTINUED. 



149 



"A beautiful bouquet animated bj May-bugs, etc." 

"A warrior in armor with a gypseous pipe in his hand leans 
against a table and blows the smoke far away of himself." 

"A Dutch landscape along a navigable river which perfuses 
it till to the background." 

" Some peasants singing in a cottage. A woman lets drink 
a child out of a cup." 

" St. John's head as a boy, — painted in fresco on a brick." 
(Meaning a tile.) 

"A young man of the Riccio family, his hair cut off right 
at the end, dressed in black with the same cap. Attributed 
to Raphael, but the signation is false." 

" The Yirgin holding the Infant. Is very painted in the 
manner of Sassoferrato." 

"A Larder with greens and dead game animated by a 
cook-maid and two kitchen-boys." 

However, the English of this catalogue is at least as happy 
as that which distinguishes an inscription upon a certain 
picture in Rome, — to wit : 

" Revelations- View. St. John in Patterson's Island." 

Bat meantime the raft is moving on. 




CHAPTER XVIL 

A MILE or two above Eberbacli we saw a peculiar ruin 
- projecting above the foliage which clothed the peak of 
a high and very steep hill. This ruin consisted of merely a 
couple of criiaibling masses of masonry which bore a rude 
resemblance to human faces ; they leaned forward and touched 
foreheads, and had the look of being absorbed in conversation. 
This ruin had nothing very imposing or picturesque about it, 
and there was no great deal of it, yet it was called the " Spec- 
tacular Ruin." 

LEGEND OF THE " SPECTACULAR RUIN." 

The captain of the raft, who was as full of history as he 
could stick, said that in the Middle Ages a most pro- 
digious lire-breathing dragon used to live in that region, and 
made more trouble than a tax collector. He was as long as 
a railway train, and had the customary impenetrable green 
scales all over him. His breath bred pestilence and con- 
flagration, and his appetite bred famine. He ate men and 
cattle impartially, and was exceedingly unpopular. Tlie 
German emperor of that day made the usual offer : he would 
grant to the destroyer of the dragon, any one solitary thing 
he might ask for; for he had a surplusage of daughters, and 
it was customary for dragon-killers to take a daughter for pay. 

So the most renowned knights came from the four corners 
of the earth and retired down the dragon's throat one after 

150 



A SCIENTIFIC TRAMP. 



151 



the other. A panic arose and spread. Heroes grew cau- 
tious. Tlie procession ceased. The dragon became more 
destructive than ever. The people lost all hope of succor, 
and fled to the mountains for refuge. 

At last Sir Wissenschaft, a poor and obscure tnight, out 

of a far countiy, arrived 
to do battle with the 
monster. A pitiable 
object, he was, with his 
armor hanging in rags 
about him, and his strange 
shaped knapsack strapped 
upon his back. Every- 
body turned up their noses 
at him, and some openly 
jeered him. But he was 
calm. He simply enquir- 
ed if the emperor's offer 
was still in force. The 
^-^ emperor said it was, — but 
y — -^ charitably advised him to 
\ go and hunt hares and not 
^!yrC endanger so precious a life 
"""'^ as his in an attempt which 
had brought death to so 
many of the world's most 
THE TJNKNowN KNIGHT. illustnous licroes. 

But this tramp only asked, — "Were any of these heroes 
men of science?" This raised a lau^h, of course, for science 
was despised in those days. But the tramp was not in the 
least ruffled. He said he might be a little in advance of his 
age, but no matter, — science would come to be honored, some 
time or other. He said he would march against the dragon 
in the morning. Out of compassion, then, a decent spear 
was offered him. but he declined, and said, "spears were 
useless to men of science." They allowed him to sup in the 
servants' hall, and gave him a bed in the stables. 




152 



THE POWEE OF SCIENCE ILLUSTEATED. 



When he started forth in the morning, thousands were 
gathered to see. The emperor said, — 

" Do not be rash, take a spear, and leave off your knap- 
sack." 

But the tramp said, — 

" It is not a knapsack," and moved straight on. 
Tiie dragon was waiting and ready. He was breathing 
forth vast vulumes of sulphurous smoke and lurid blasts of 
flame. The ragged knight stole warily to a good position, 
then he unslnng his cylindrical knapsack, — which was simply 
the common fire-extinguisher known to modern times, — and 
the first chance he got he turned on his hose and shot the 
dragon square in the center of his cavernous mouth. Out went 
the fires in an instant, and the dragon curled up and died. 

This man had brought brains to his aid. He had reared 
dragons from the egg, in his laboratory, he had watched over 
them like a mother, and patiently studied them and experi- 
mented upon them while they grew. Thus he had found 
out that fire was the life principle of a dragon; put out the 
dragon's fires and it could make steam no longer, and must 
die. He could not put out a fire with a spear, therefore he 

invented the extinguisher. 
The dragon being dead, the 
emperor fell on the hero's 
neck and said, — 

•' Deliverer, name your 

request," at the same time 

beckoning out behind with 

^^7" his heel for a detachment 

of his daughters to form 

and advance. But the tramp 

gave them no observance. 

He simply said, — 

My request is, that upon me be conferred the monopoly 

of the manufacture and sale of spectacles in Germany." 

The emperor sprang aside and exclaimed, — 

"This transcends all the impudence I ever heard! A 




THE EMBKACB. 



WHY SPECTACLES WERE WORN. 153 

modest demand, by my lialidome ! Why didn't you ask for 
the imperial revenues at once, and be done with it ? " 

But the monarch had given his word, and he kept it. 
To everybody's surprise, the unselfish monopolist immedi- 
ately reduced the price of spectacles to such a degree that 
a great and crushing burden was removed from the nation. 
The emperor, to commemorate this generous act, and to 
testify his appreciation of it, issued a decree commanding 
everybody to buy this benefactor's spectacles and wear them, 
whether they needed them or not. 

So originated the wide-spread custom of wearing specta- 
cles in Germany ; and as a custom once established in these 
old lands is imperishable, this one remains universal in the 
Empire to this day. Such is the legend of the monopolist's 
once stately and sumptuous castle, now called the " Spectacu- 
lar Ruin." 

On the right bank, two or three miles below the Spectac- 
ular Ruin, we passed by a noble pile of castellated buildings 
overlooking the water from the crest of a lofty elevation. 
A stretch of two hundred yards of the high front wall was 
heavily draped with iv^y, and out of the mass of buildings 
within rose three picturesque old towers. The place was in 
fine order, and was inhabited by a family of princely rank. 
This castle had its legend, too, but I should not feel justified 
in repeating it because I doubted the truth of some of its 
minor details. 

Along in this region a multitude of Italian laborers were 
blasting away the frontage of the hills to make room for the 
new railway. They were fifty or a hundred feet above the 
river. As we turned a sharp corner they began to wave 
signals and shout warnings to us to look out for the explo- 
sions. It was all very well to warn us, but what could we do ? 
You can't back a raft up stream, you can't hurry it down 
stream, you can't scatter out to one side when you haven't any 
room to speak of, you won't take to the perpendicular cliffs 
on the other shore when they appear to be blasting there 



154 



ENCOUNTERING DANGER. 



too. Yonr resources are limited, you see. There is simply 
nothing for it but to watch and pray. 

For some hours we had been making three and a half or 
four miles an hour and we were still making that. We had 
been dancing right along until those men began to shout ; 
then for the next ten minutes it seemed to me that I had 
never seen a raft go so slowly. When the first blast went 
off we raised our sun-umbrellas and waited for the result. 




PERILOUS POSITION. 



No harm done; none of the stones fell in the M^ater. An- 
other blast followed, and another and another. Some of the 
rubbish fell in the water just astern of us. 

We ran that whole battery of nine blasts in a row, and it 
was certainly one of the most exciting and uncomfortable 
weeks 1 ever spent, either aship or ashore. Of course we fre- 
quently manned the poles and shoved earnestly for a second 
or so, but every time one of those spurts of dust and debris 
shot aloft every man dropped his pole and looked up to get 
tlie bearings of his share of it. It was very busy times 
along there for a while. It appeared certain that we must 
perish, but even that was not the bitterest thought ; no, the 



ITALIANS AS LABORERS. 155 

abjectly unheroic nature of the death, — that was the stiiig, 
— that ai]d the bizarre wording of the resulting obituary : 
" Shot with a rock, on a raftP There would be no poetry 
written about it. None could be written about it. Example : 

Not by war's shock, or war's shaft, — 
Shot, with a rock, on a raft. 

No poet who valued his reputation would touch such a 
theme as that. I should be distinguished as the only " dis- 
tinguished dead" who went down to the grave unsonneted, 
in 1878. 

But we escaped, and I have never regretted it. The last 
blast was a peculiarly strong one, and after the small rubbish 
was done raining around us and we were just going to shake 
hands over our deliverance, a later and larger stone came 
down amongst our little group of pedestrians and wrecked 
an umbrella. It did no other harm, but we took to the water 
just the same. 

It seems that the heavy work in the quarries and the new 
railway gradings is done mainly by Italians. That was a 
revelation. We have the notion in our country that Italians 
never do heavy work at all, but confine themselves to the 
lighter arts, like organ-grinding, operatic singing, and assassi- 
nation. We have bhmdered, that is plain. 

All along the river, near every village, we saw little sta- 
tion houses for the future railway. They were finished and 
waiting for the rails and business. They were as trim and 
snug and pretty as they could be. They were always of 
Drick or stone ; they were of graceful shape, they had vines 
and flowers about them already, and around them the grass 
was bright and green, and showed that it was carefully 
looked after. They were a decoration to the beautiful land- 
scape, not an offense. Wherever one saw a pile of gravel, or 
a pile of broken stone, it was always heaped as trimly and 
exactly as a new grave or a stack of cannon balls ; nothing 
about those stations, or along the railroad or the wagon road 
was allowed to look shabby or be unornamental. The keeping 



156 A GALE AT SEA. 

a country in such beautiful order as Germany exhibits, has a 
wise practical side to it, too, for it keeps thousands of people 
in work and bread who would otherwise be idle and mis- 
chievous. 

As the night shut down, the captain wanted to tie up, but 
I thought maybe we might make Hirschhorn, so we went 
on. Presently the sky became overcast, and the captain 
came aft looking uneasy. He cast his eye aloft, then shook 
his head, and said it was coming on to blow. My party 
wanted to land at once, — therefore 1 wanted to go on. The 
captain said we ought to shorten sail, anyway, out of com- 
mon prudence. Consequently the larboard watch was or- 
dered to lay in his pole. It grew quite dark, now, and the 
wind began to rise. It wailed through the swaying branches 
of the trees, and swept our decks in fitful gusts. Things 
were taking on an ugly look. The captain shouted to the 
steersman on the forward log, — 

" How's she heading ? " 

The answer came faint and hoarse from far forward : 

" Nor'-east-and-by-nor', -east by-east, half-east, sir." 

" Let her go off a point ! " 

"Ay-aye, sir!" 

" What water have you got ? " 

" Shoal, sir. Two foot large, on the stabboard, two and a 
Imlf scant on the labboard ! " 

'• Let her go off another point ! " 

"Ay-aye, sir ! " 

" Forward, men, all of you! Lively, now! Stand by to 
crowd her round the weather corner!" 

"Ay-aye, sir ! " 

Then followed a wild running and trampling and hoarse 
shouting, but the forms of the men were lost in the darkness 
and the sounds were distorted and confused by the roaring 
of the wind through the shingle-bundles. By this time the 
sea was running inches high, and threatening every moment 
to engulf the frail bark. Now came the mate hurrying aft^ 
and said, close to the captain's ear, in a low, agitated voice, — 



IMMINENT DANGER. 



157 



" Prepare for the worst, sir, — we have sprung a leak !" 

" Heavens ! where ? " 

'• E-igat aft the second row of logs." 

*' Nothing but a miracle can save us ! Don't let the men 
know, or there will be a panic and mutiny ! Lay liur m shore 
and stand by to juujp with the stern-line the moment sl,.i 
touches. Gentlemen, I ujust look to you to second my en- 
deavors in this lioiir of peril. You have hats, — go forrard 
and bail for your lives ! " 

Down swept another mighty blast of wind, clothed in spray 
and thick darkness. At such a moment as this, came from 




THE RAFT IN A STORM. 

away forward that most appalling of all cries that are ever 
heard at sea, — 

" Man overhoard ! " 

The captain shouted. — 

"Hard a-port ! Never mind the man! Let him climb 
aboard or wade ashore ! " 

Another cry came down the wind, — 

" Breakers ahead ! " 

" Where away ? " 

" Not a log's leno^th oflT her po-t forp-f.^nf ! " 

We had groped' our slippery way forward, and were now 
10 



158 



THE CRISIS PASSED. 



bailing with the frenzj of despair, when we heard the n^ate's 
terrilied cry, from far aft, — 

" Stop that dashed bailing, or we shall be aground ! " 

But this was immediately followed by the glad shout, — 

'■ Land aboard the starboard transom ! " 

"Saved!" cried the captain. "Jump ashore and take a 
tui-u around a tree and pass the bight aboard ! " 

The next moment we were all on shore weeping and em- 
bracing for joy, while the rain poured down in torrents. 
The captain said he had been a mariner for forty years on 
the Neckar, and in that time had seen storms to make a man's 




ALL SAFE ON SHORE. 

cheek blanch and his pulses srop, but he had never, never 
ppen a storm that even appronched this one. How familiar 
that sounded ! For I liave been at ?ea a good deal and have 
lieard that remark from captains with a fi-equency accord- 
ing! v. 

We framed in our minds tlie usual resolution of thanks 
and admirntion and gratitude, and took the first opportunity 
to vote it, and put it in writinij^ and present it to the captain, 
with the customary speech. 

W"e tramped through the darkness and the drenching 



A RICH LANDLORD. 159 

summer rain full three miles, and readied '' The Naturalist 
Tavern " in the village of Hirschhorn just an hour before 
midnight, almost exhausted from hardship, fatigue and terror. 
I can never forget that night. 

The landlord was rich, and therefore could afford to be 
crusty and disobliging ; lie did not at all like being turned 
out of his warm bed to open his house for us." But no mat- 
ter, his household got up and cooked a quick supper for us, 
and we brewed a hot punch for ourselves, to keep off con- 
sumption. After supper arid*puncli we had an hour's sooth- 
ing smoke while we fought the naval battle over again and 
voted the resolutions; then we retired to 'exceedingly neat 
and pretty chambers up stairs that had clean, comfortable 
beds in them with heir-loom pillow-cases most elaborately and 
tastefully embroidered by hand. 

Such rooms and beds and embroidered linen are as frequent 
in German village inns as they are rare in ours. Our villages 
are superior to German villages in more merits, excellencies, 
conveniences and privileges than I can enumerate, but the 
hotels do not belong in the list. 

" The Naturalist Tavern " was not a meaningless name ; 
for all the halls and all the rooms were lined with large glass 
cases which were filled with all sorts of birds and animals, 
glass-eyed, ably stuffed, and set up in the most natural and 
eloquent and dramatic attitudes. The moment we were abed, 
the rain cleared away and the moon came out. I dozed off 
to sleep while contemplating a great white stuffed owl which 
was looking intently down on me from a high perch with 
the air of a person who thought he had met me before but 
could not make out for certain. 

But young Z. did not get off so easily. He said that as he 
was sinking deliciously to sleep, the moon lifted away the 
shadows and developed a huge cat, on a bracket, dead and 
stuffed, but crouching, with every muscle tense, for a spring, 
and with its glittering glass eyes aimed straight at him. It 
made Z. uncomfortable. He tried closing his own eyes, but 



160 



NERVOUS SYMPTOMS. 



that did not answer, for a natural instinct kept making him 
open them again to see if the cat was still getting i-eady to 
launch at him, — which she alwajs was. lie tried turning 




"it was the cat/' 



his back, but that was a failure ; he knew the sinister eyes 
were on him still. So at last he had to get up, after an hour 
or two of worry and experiment, and set the cat out in the 
hall. So he won, that time. 




CHAPTER XVIII. 

IN the morning we took breakfast in the garden, under the 
trees, in the delightful German summer fashioUo The 
Hir was filled with the fragrance of flowers and wild animals ; 
the living portion of the menagerie of the " JS'aturalist Tav- 
ern " was all about us. There were great cages populous 
with fluttering and chattering foreign birds, and other great 
cages and greater wire pens, populous with quadrupeds, both 
native and foreign. There were some free creatures, too, 
and quite sociable ones they were. White rabbits went lo- 
ping about the place, and occasionally came and sniffed at our 
shoes and shins ; a fawn, with a red ribbon on its neck, 
walked up and examined us fearlessly ; rare breeds of chick- 
ens and doves begged for crumbs, and a poor old tailless 
raven hopped about with a humble, shame-faced mien which 
said, "Please do not notice my exposure, — think how you 
would feel in my circumstances, and be charitable." If he 
was observed too much, he would retire behind something 
and stay there until he judged the party's interest had found 
another object. I never have seen another dumb creature 
that was so morbidly sensitive. Bayard Taylor, who could 
interpret the dim reasonings of animals, and understood their 
moral natures better than most men, would have found some 

161 



162 SIGHT-SEEING. 

way to make this poor old chap forget his troubles fur a while. 






~4^r^^^ ^ 




BREAKFAST IN THE GARDEN. 



but we had not his kindly art, aiid so had to leave the raven 
to his s^rief s. 

After breakfast we climbed the hill and visited the ancient 
castle of Hirschhorn, and the mined church near it. There 
were some cnrions old bas-reliefs leanins; against the inner 
walls of the church, — sculptured lords of Hirschhorn in com- 
plete armor, and ladies of Hirschhorn in the picturesque 
court costumes of the Middle Ages. These things are suf- 
fering damage and passing to decay, for the last Hirschhorn 
has been dead two hundred years, and there is nobody now 
who cares to preserve the family relics. In the chancel was 
a twisted stone column, and the captain told us a legend about 
it, of course, for in the matter of legends he could not seem to 
restrain himself; but I do not repeat his tale because there was 
nothing plausible about it except that the Hero wrenched this 
column into its present screw-shape with his hands, — just one 
single wrench. All the rest of the legend was doubtful. 

But Hirschhorn is best seen from a distance, down the 
river. Then the clustered brown towers perched on the 



SPEAKING IX man German, 163 

green hilltop, and the old battlemented stone wall stretching 
lip and over the grassy ridge and disappearing in the leafj 
sea beyond, make a picture whose grace and beauty entirely 
satisfy the eye. 

We descended from the church by steep stone stairways 
which curved tliis w;iy and that down narrow alleys between 
the packed and dirty tenements of the village. It was a 
quarter well stocked with deformed, leering, unkempt and 
uucombed idiots, who held out hands or caps and begged 
piteously. Tlie people of the quarter were not all idiots, of 
course, but all that begged seemed to be, and were said to 
be. 

I M^-as thinking of going by skiif to the next town, Neckar- 
steinach ; so 1 ran to the riverside in advance of the party and 
asked a man there if he had a boat to hire. I suppose I must 
have spoken High-German, — Court German, — I intended 
it for that, anyway, — so he did not understand me. I turned 
and twisted my question around and about, trying to strike 
that man's average, but failed. He could not make out what 
I wanted. Now Mr. X. arrived, faced this same man, looked 
him in the eye, and emptied this sentence on him, in the most 
glib, and confident way: 

" Can man boat get here ? " 

The mariner promptly understood and promptly answered. 
I can comprehend why he was able to understand that par- 
ticular sentence, because by mere accident all the words in 
it except "get " have the same sound and the same meaning 
in German that they have in English ; but how lie managed to 
understand Mr, X.'s next remark puzzled me. I will inssrt 
it, presently. X. turned away a moment, and I asked the 
mariner if he could not find a board, and so construct an 
additional seat. I spoke in the purest German, but I might 
as well have spoken in the purest Choctaw for all the good 
it did. The man tried his best to understand me; he tried,, 
and kept on trying, harder and harder, until I saw it was 
really of no use, and said, — 



164 



PLATT-DEUTCH. 



" There, don't strain yourself,— it is of no consequence." 

Then X. turned 
to him and crisply 
said, — 

" Machen Sie a 
flat board." 

I wish my epi- 
taph may tell the 
truth about me if 
the man did not 
answer up at once, 
and say lie would 
go anu borrow a 
boa 1x1 as soon as 
he had lit the pipe 
which he was 
filling. 

We changed our 
mind about taking 
EASILY UNDERSTOOD. a boat, SO wc did 

not have to go. L have given Mr. X.'s two remarks just as 
he made them. Four of the five words in the first one were 
English, and that they were also German was only accidental, 
not intentional ; three ont of the five words in the second re- 
mMi'k were English, and English only, and the two German 
ones did not mean anything in particular, in such a con- 
nection. 

X. always spoke English, to Germans, but his plan was to 
turn the sentence wrong end first and upside down, according 
to German construction, and sprinkle in a German word with- 
out any essential meaning to it, here and there, by way of 
flavor. Yet he always made himself understood. He could 
make those dialect-speaking raftsmen understand him, some- 
times, when even young Z. had failed with them ; and young 
Z. was a pretty good German scholar. For one thing, X. 
a.ways spoke with such confidence, — perhaps that helped. 




A STOCK OF MISINFORMATION. 165 

And possibly the raftsmen's dialect was what is called ^Za^^- 
Deutch, and so they found his English more familiar to their 
ears than another man's German. Quite indifferent students 
of German can read Fritz Renter's charming platt-Deutcli 
tales with some little facility because many of the words 
are English. I suppose this is the tongue which our Saxon 
'ancestors carried to England with them. By and by 1 will 
inquire of some other philologist. 

However, in the meantime it had transpired that the men 
employed to caulk the raft had found that the leak was not a 
leak at all, but only a crack between the logs, — a crack which 
belonged there, and was not dangerous, but had been mag- 
nified into a leak by the disordered imagination of the mate. 
Therefore we went aboard again with a good degree of con- 
fidence, and presently got to sea without accident. As M^e 
jwam smoothly along between the enchanting shores, we 
fell to swapping notes about manners and customs in Ger- 
many and elsewhere. 

As I write, now, many months later, I perceive that each 
of us, by observing and noting and inquiring, diligently and 
day by day, had managed to lay in a most varied and opu- 
lent stock of misinformation. But this is not surprising; it 
is very difficult to get accurate details in any country. 

For example,,! had the idea, once, in Heidelberg, to find 
out all about those five student-corps. I started with the 
White-cap corps. I began to inquire of tliis and that and the 
other citizen, and here is what T found out: 

1. It is called the Prussian Corps, because none but Prus- 
sians are admitted to it. 

2. It is called the Prussian Corps for no particular rea- 
son. It has simply pleased each corps to name itself after 
some German State. 

3. It is not named the Prussian Corps at all, but only 
the White Ctip Cory)s. 

4. Any student can belong to it who is a German by 
birth. 



IQQ AT HEAD QUARTERS. 

5. Any student can belong to it who is European hy 
birth. 

6. Any European-born student can belong to it, except 
he be a Frenchman. 

7. Any stadent can belong to it, no matter where he was 
born. 

8. No student can belong to it who is not of noble blood. 

9. No student can belong to it who cannot show tliree 
full generations of noble descent. 

10. Nobility is not a necessary qualification. 

11. No mone^dess student can belong to it. 

12. Money qualification is nonsense — such a thing has 
never been thought of. 

I srot some of this information from students themselves, 
— students who did not belong to the corps. I finally went 
to headquarters, — to the White Caps, — where I would have 
gone in the first place if I had been acquainted. But even 
at headquarters I found difficulties ; I perceived that there 
were things about the White Cap Corps which one member 
knew and another one didn't. It was natur^d ; for very few 
members of any organization know all that can be known 
about it. I doubt if there is a man or a woman in Heidel- 
berg who would not answer promptly and confidently three 
out of every five questions about the White Cap Corps which 
a stranger might ask ; yet it is a very safe bet that two of 
tlie three answers would be incorrect every time. 

There is one German custom which is universal, — the bow- 
ing courteously to strangers when sitting down at table or 
rising up from it. This bow startles a stranger out of bis 
self-possession, the first time it occurs, and he is likely to fall 
over a chair or something, in his embarrassment, but it pleases 
liim nevertheless. One soon learns to expect this bow and be 
on the lookout and ready to return it; but to learn to lead 
off and make the initial bow one's self is a difficult matter 
for a diflfident man. One thinks, " If I rise to go, and tender 
my bow and these ladies and gentlemen take it into their hends 
to ignore the custom of their nation, and not return it, how 



EMBARRASSING TO STRANGERS. 



167 



shall I feel, in case I survive to feel anything." Therefore 
he is afraid to venture. He sits out the dinner, and makes 
the strangers rise first and originate the bowing. A table 
d'hote dinner is a tedious affair for a man who seldom touches 
anything after the three first courses ; therefore I used to do 
some pretty dreary waiting because of my fears. It took 
me months to assure myself that those fears were groundless, 
but 1 did assure myself at last by experimenting diligently 
through my agent. I made Harris get up and bow and leave; 
invariably his bow was returned, then I got up and bowed 

myself and retired. 
Thus my educa- 
tion proceeded easily 
and comfortably for 
me, but not for Har- 
ris. Three courses of 
a table d'hote d i n - 
ner were enough for 
me, but Harris pre- 
ferred thirteen. 

Even after I had 
acquired full confi- 
dence, and no longer 
I needed the agent's 
Shell) I sometimes 
encountered difficul- 
ties. Once at Baden 
Baden I nearly 
ExPERiMKNTmG THROUGH HARRIS. lost a train^ bccausc 

I could not be sure that three young ladies opposite me at 
table, were Germans, since I had not heard them speak ; they 
might be American, they might be English, it was not safe 
to venture a bow; but just as I had got that far witb my 
thought, one of them began a German remark, to my great 
relief and gratitude ; and before she had got out her third 
word, our bows had been delivered and graciously returned, 
and we were off. 




168 FRIENDLINESS OF THE GERMANS. 

There is a friendly something about the German character 
which is very winning. When Harris and I -were making a 
pedestrian tour through the Black Forest, we stopped at a 
little country inn for dinner one day ; two young ladies and 
a young gentleman entered and sat down opposite us. They 
were pedestrians, too. Our knapsacks were strapped upon 
our backs, but they had a sturdy youth along to carry theirs 
for them. All parties were hungry, so there was no talking. 
By and by the usual bows were exchanged, and we separated. 

As we sat at a late breakfast in the hotel at Allerheiligen, 
next morning, these young people entered and took places 
near us without observing us ; but presently they saw us and 
at once bowed and smiled; not ceremoniously, but with the 
gratified look of people who have found acquaintances where 
they were expecting strangers. Then they spoke of the 
weather and the roads. We also spoke of the weather and 
the roads. Kext, they said they had had an enjoyable walk, 
notwithstanding the weather. We said that that had been 
our case, too. Then they said they had walked thirty Eng- 
lish miles the day before, and asked how many we had walked. 
I could not lie, so I told Harris to do it. Harris told them 
we had made thirty English miles, too. That was true ; vje 
had " made " them, though we had had a little assistance here 
and there. 

After breakfast they found us trying to blast some infor- 
mation out of the dumb hotel clerk about routes, and observ, 
ing that we were not succeeding pretty well, they went and 
ffot their maps and things, and pointed out and explained our 
course so clearly that even a New York detective could have 
followed it. And when we started they spoke out a hearty 
good-bye and wished us a pleasant journey. Perhaps they 
were more generous with us than they might have been with 
native wayfarers because we were a forlorn lot and in a 
strange land ; I don't know ; I only know it was lovely to 
be treated so. 

Very well, T took an American young lady to one of the 



TIMELY ASSISTANCE. 



ica 



fine balls in Baden-Baden, one night, and at the entrance- 
door up stairs we were halted by an official, — something about 
Miss Jones's dress was not according to rule ; I don't remem- 
ber what it was, now; something was wanting, — her back 
hair, or a shawl, or a fan, or a shovel, or something. The 
official was ever so polite, and ever so sorry, but the rule was 
strict, and he could not let us in. It was very embarrassing. 




AT THE BALL-ROOM DOOR. 

for many eyes were on us. But now a richly dressed girl 
stepped out of the ball-room, inquired into the trouble, and 
said she could fix it in a moment. She took Miss Jones to 
the robing-room, and soon brought her back in regulation 
trim, and then we entered the ball-room with this benefactress 
unchallenged. 

Being safe, now, I began to puzzle through my sincere but 
ungrararaatical thanks, when there was a sudden m-itual 
recognition, — the benefactress and I had met at Allerheiligen. 
Two weeks had not altered her good face, and plainly her 
heart was in the right place yet, but there was such a differ- 
ence between these clothes and the clothes I had seen her in 
before, when she was walking thirty miles a day in the Black 



170 EEAL POLITENESS. 

Forest, that it was quite natural that I liad failed to recog- 
nize lier sooner. I bad on my other suit, too, but my Ger- 
man would betray me to a person who had heard it once, 
anyway. She brought her brother and sister, and they made 
our way smooth for that evening. 

Well, — months afterward, I was driving through the streets 
of Munich in a cab with a German lady, one day, when she 
said, — 

" There that is Prince Ludwig and his wife, w^alking a- 
long there." 

Everybody was bowing to them, — cabmen, little children, 
and everybody else, — and they were returning all the bows 
and overlooking nobody, when a young lady met them and 
made a deep curtsy. 

" That is probably one of the ladies of the court," said my 
German friend. 

I said, — 

'' She is an honor to it, then. I know her. I don't know 
her name, but I know her. I have known her at Allerheili- 
gen and Baden-Baden. She ought to be an Empress, but 
she may be only a Duchess ; it is the way things go in this 
world.'' 

If one asks a German a civil question, he will be quite 
sure to get a civil answer. If you stop a German in the 
street and ask him to direct you to a certain place, he shows 
no sign of feeling offended. If the place be difficult to find, 
ten to one the man will drop his own matters and go with 
you and show you. In London, too, many a time, strangers 
have walked several blocks with me to show me my w^ay. 
There is something very real about this sort of politeness. 
Quite often, in Germany, shopkeepers who could not furnish 
me the article I wanted, have sent one of their employes 
with me to show me a place where it could be had. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

HOWEVEK, I wander from the rafi. We made the port 
of Neckarsteinach in good season, and went to the hotel 
and ordered a trout dinner, the same to be ready against 
our return from a two-hour pedestrian excursion to the vil- 
lage and castle of Dilsberg, a mile distant, on the other side 
of the river, I do not mean that we proposed to be two 
hours making two miles, — no, we meant to employ most of 
the time in inspecting Dilsberg. 

For Dilsberg is a quaint place. It is most quaintly and 
picturesquely situated, too. Imagine the beauiiful river be- 
fore you ; then a few rods of brilliant green sward on its 
opposite shore ; then a sudden hill, — no preparatory gently- 
rising slopes, but a sort of instantaneous hill, — a hill two 
hundred and fifty or three hundred feet high, as round as a 
bowl, with the same taper upward that an inverted bowl has, 
and with about the same relation of height to diameter that 
distinoruishes a bowl of good honest depth, — a hill which is 
thickly clothed with green bushes, — a comely, shapely hill, 
rising abruptly out of the dead level of the surrounding 
green plains, visible from a great distance down the bends of 
the river, and with just exactly room on the top of its head 
for its steepled and turreted and roof-clustered cap of archi- 
tecture, which same is tightly jammed and compacted with 
in the perfectly round hoop of the ancient village wall. 

171 



172 



A QUAINT OLD PLACE. 




There is no house outside the wall on the whole hill, or 
an J vestige of a foriuer house; all the houses are inside the 

wall, but there isn't room for 
another one. It is really a 
finished town, and has been 
finished a verj lung time. 
There is no space betwee.. 
the wall and the first circle of buildings ; no. 
the village wall is itself the rear wall of the 
\A first circle of buildings, and the roofs jut a 
little over the wall and thus furnish it with 
\ \\ \ > eaves. The general level of the massed 
'^^ ruots is gracefully broken and relieved by 
DiLSBERG. the dominating towers of the ruined castle 

and the tall spires of a couple of church 
30, from a distance Dilsber^ 
more the look of a king' 
than a cap. That lol 
eminence and its quaint 
cornet form quite a strik- 
ing picture, you may be 
sure, in the flush of the 
evening sun. 

We crossed 
a boat and 

ascent by a narrow, 
steep path which plung- 
ed us at once into the 
leafy deeps of the bushes. 
But they were not cool 
deeps by any means, for 
the sun's rays were 
weltering hot and there* 
was little or no breeze to 
temper them. As we pan- 
ted up the sharp ascent, we met brown, bareheaded and 



over m 
began the 




OCR ADVANCE ON DILSBERG. 



MARRYING OF RELATIVES. 173 

barefooted boys and girls, occasionally, and sometimes men; 
they came upon us without warning, they gave us good-day^ 
flashed out of sight in the bushes, and were gone as sud- 
denly and mysteriously as they had come. They were 
bound for the other side of the river to work. This path 
liad been traveled by ujany generations of tliese people. 
The}- have always gone down to the valley to earn their 
bread, but they liave always climbed their hill again to eat 
it, and to sleep in their snug town. 

It is said that the Dilsbergers do not emigrate much ; they 
find that living up there above the world, in their peaceful 
nest, is pleasanter than living down in the troublous world. 
The seven hundred inhabitants are all blood-kin to each 
other, too; they have always been blood-kin to each other 
for fifteen hundred years ; they are simply one large family, 
and they like the home folks better than they like strangei-f , 
hence they persistently stay at home. It has been said that 
for ages Dilsberg has been merely a thriving and diligent 
idiot-factory. I saw no idiots there, but the captain said, 
" Because of late years the government lias taken to lugging 
them off to asylums and otherwheres ; and government 
wants to crip])le the factory, too, and is ti-ying to get these 
Dilsbergers to marry out of the family, but they don't like 
to." 

The captain probably imagined all this, as modern science 
denies that tlie intermarrying of relatives deteriorates the 
stock. 

Arrived within the wall, we found the usual village sights 
and life. We moved along a narrow, crooked lane which 
had been paved in the Middle Ages. A strapping, ruddy 
girl was beating flax or some such stuff in a little bit of a 
goods-box of a barn, and she swung her flail with a will, — if 
it was a flail ; I was not farmer enough to know what she 
was at; a frowsy, barelegged girl was herding half a dozen, 
geese with a stick, — driving tliem along the lane and' 
keeping them out of the dwellings ; a cooper was at work 



174 



THE TOWN OF DILSBERG. 



in a shop which 1 know he did not make so large a thing 
as a hogshead in, for there was not room. In the front 
rooms of dwellings girls and women were cooking or spin- 
ning, and ducks and chickens were waddling in and out, 
over the threshold, picking up chance crumbs and holding 




INSIDE THE TOWN. 



pleasant converse ; a very old and M'rinkled man sat asleep 
before his door, with his chin npon his breast and his extin- 
guished pipe in his lap ; soiled children were playing in the 
dirt everyw'here along the lane, unmindful of the sun. 

Except the sleeping old man, everybody was at work, but 
the place was very still and peaceful, nevertheless ; so still 
that the distant cackle of the successful hen smote upon the 
ear but little dulled by intervening sounds. That common- 
est of village sights was lacking here, — the public pump, 
with its great stone tank or trough of limpid water, and its 
group of gossiping pitchei'-bearers ; for there is no well or 
fountain or spring on this tall hill ; cisterns of rain water are 
used. 

Our alpenstocks and muslin tails compelled attention, and 
as we moved through the village we gathered a considerable 
procession of little boys and girls, and so went in some state 
to the castle. It proved to be an extensive pile of crumbling 



THE ANCIENT WELL. 175 

walls, arches and towers, massive, properly grouped for pic- 
turesque effect, weedy, grass-grown, and satisfactory. The 
children acted as guides ; they walked us along the top of the 
highest wall, then took us up into a high tower and showed 
us a wide and beautiful landscape, made up of wavy dis- 
tances of woody hills, and a nearer prospect of undulating 
expanses of green lowlands, on the one hand, and castle- 
graced crags and ridges on the other, with the shining curves 
of the iNTeckar flowing between. But the principal show, 
the chief pride of the children, was the ancient and empty 
well in the grass-grown court of the castle. Its massive 
stone curb stands up three or four feet above ground, and is 
whole and uninjured. The children said that in the Middle 
Ages this well was four hundred feet deep, and furnished 
all the village with an abundant supply of water, in war and 
peace. They said that in that old day its bottom was below 
the level of the Keckar, hence the water supply was inex- 
haustible. 

But there were some who believed it had never been a 
well at all, and was never deeper than it is now, — eighty 
feet ; that at that depth a subterranean passage branched 
from it and descended gradually to a remote place in the 
valley, where it opened into somebody's cellar or other hid- 
den recess, and that the secret of this locality is now lost. 
Those who hold this belief say that herein lies the expla- 
nation that Dilsberg, besieged by Tilly and many a soldier 
before him, was never taken: after the longest and closest 
sieges the besiegers were astonished to perceive that the be- 
sieged were as fat and hearty as ever, and as well furnished 
with munitions of war, — therefore it must be that the Dils- 
bergers had been bringing these things in through the 
subterranean passage all the time. 

The children said that there was in truth a subterranean 
outlet down there, and they would prove it. So they set a 
great truss of straw on fire and threw it down the well, 
while we leaned on the curb and watched the glowing mass 



176 



A RELIC OF THE PAST. 



descend. It struck bottom and gradually burned out. No 

smoke came up. 
T h e children 
clapped their 
hands and said, — 
'* Yo u see ! 
Nothing makes 







so much smoke as 
burning straw — 
now wheredidthe 
smoke go to, if 
there is no subter- 
ranean outlet? " 
THE OLD WELL. So it secmcd 

quite evident that the subterranean outlet indeed existed. 
But the finest thingwithin the ruin's limits was a noble lin- 
den, which the children said was four hundred j^ears old, and 
no doubt it was. It had a mighty trunk and a mighty spread 
of limb and foliage. The limbs near the ground were nearly 
the thickness of a barrel. 

That tree had witnessed the assaults of men in mail, — how 
remote such a time seems, and how ungraspable is the fact 
that real men ever did figlit in real armor ! — and it had 
seen the time when these broken arches and crumbling bat- 
tlements were a trim and strong and stately fortress, flutter- 
ing its gay banners in the sun,. and peopled with vigorous 
humanity, — how impossibly loug ago that seems ! — and here 
it stands yet, and possibl}^ may still be standing here, sun- 
ning itself and dreaming its historical dreams, when to-day 
shall have been joined to the days called " ancient." 

Well, we sat down under the tree to smoke, and the cap- 
tain delivered himself of his legend : 

THE LEGEND OF MLSBEEG CASTLE. 

It was to this effect. In the old times there M'as once a 
great company assembled at the castle, and festivity ran high. 
Of course there was a haunted chamber in the castle, and 



LEGEND OF DILSBERG CASTLE. lYT 

one day the talk fell upon that. It was said that whoever 
slept in it would not wake again for fifty years. ISTow when 
a young knight named Conrad von Geisberg heard this, he 
said that if the castle were his he would destroy that cham- 
ber, so that no foolish person might have the chance to briug 
so dreadful a misfortune upon himself and afflict such as 
loved him with the memory of it. Straightway the company 
privately laid their heads together to contrive some way to 
get this superstitious young man to sleep in that chamber. 
And they succeeded — in this way. They persuaded his be- 
trothed, a lovely mischievous young creature, niece of the 
lord of the castle, to help them in their plot. She presently 
took him aside and had speech with him. She used all her 
persuasions, but could not shake him ; he said his belief was 
firm that if he should sleep there he would wake no more for 
fifty years, and it made him shudder to think of it. Catharina 
began to weep. This was a better argument ; Conrad could 
not hold out against it. He yielded and said she should have 
her wish if she would only smile and be happy again. She 
flung her arms about his neck, and the kisses she gave him 
showed that her thankfulness and her pleasure were very real. 
Then she flew to tell the company her success, and the ap- 
plause she received made her glad and proud she had under- 
taken her mission, since all alone she had accomplished what 
the multitude had failed in. 

At midnight, that night, after the usual feasting, Conrad 
was taken to the haunted chamber and left there. He fell 
asleep, by and by. 

When he awoke again and looked about him, his heart 
stood still with horror! The whole aspect of the chamber 
was changed. The walls were mouldy and hung with ancient 
cobwebs; the curtains and beddings were rotten; the furni- 
ture was rickety and ready to fall to pieces. He spi-ang out 
of bed, but his quaking knees sunk under him and he fell to 
the floor. 

" This is the weakness of age," he said. 



178 



THE LOVER'S AWAKENING. 




He rose and sought his clothing. It was clothing no lon- 
ger. The colors were gone, the garments gave way in many 

places while he was put 
ting them on. He lied 
shuddering, into the 
corridor, and along it 
to the great hall. Here 
he was met by a middle- 
aged stranger of a k ind 
countenance, who stop- 
ped and gazed at him 
with surprise. Conrad 

•' SEND HITHER THH LORD ULEICH." SaiCl '. 

" Good sir, will you send hither the lord Ulrich ?" 

The stranger looked puzzled a moment, then said, — 

" The lord Ulrich ? " 

" Yes, — if you will be so good." 

The stranger called, — "Wilhelm!" A young serving 
man came, and the stranger said to him, — 

" Is there a lord Ulrich among the guests ? " 

" I know none of the name, so please your honor." 

Conrad said, hesitatingly, — 

" I did not mean a guest, but the lord of the castle, sir. 

The stranger and the servant exchanged wondering glan- 
ces. Then the former said, — 

" I am the lord of the castle." 

"Since when, sir?" 

" Since the death of my father, the good lord Ulrich, more 
than forty years ago." 

Conrad sank upon a bench and covered his face with his 
hands while he rocked his body to and fro and moaned. The 
stranger said in a low voice to the servant, — 

" i fear me this poor old creature is mad. Call some one." 

5n B moment several people came, and grouped themselves 
about, talking in whispers. Conrad looked up and sjaimer* 



GONE, ALL GONE. X79 

the faces about him wistfully „ Then he shook his head and 
said, in a grieved voice, — 

" No, there is none among ye that I know. I am old and 
alone in the world. They are dead and gone these many 
years that cared for me. But sure, some of these aged ones 
I see about me can tell me some little word or two concern- 
ing them." 

Several bent and tottering men and women came nearer 
and answered his questions about each former friend as he 
mentioned the names. This one they said had been dead ten 
years,, that one twenty, another thirty. Each succeeding 
blow struck heavier and heavier. At last the suiferer said, — 

" There is one more, but I have not the courage to, — O, 
my lost Catharina ! " 

One of the old dames said, — 

"Ah, I knew her well, poor soul. A misfortune overtook 
her lover, and she died of sorrow nearly fifty years ago. She 
lieth under the linden tree without the court." 

Conrad bowed his head and said — 

" Ah why did I ever wake! And so she died of grief for 
me, poor child. So young, so sweet, so good ! She never 
wittinglj' did a hurtful thing in all the little summer of her 
life. Her loving debt shall be repaid — for I will die of grief 
for her." 

His head drooped upon his breast. In a moment there 
was a wild burst of joyous laughter, a pair of round young 
arms were flung about Conrad's neck and a ^weet voice 
cried, — 

"There, Conrad mine, thy kind M'ords kill me,^the farce 
shall go no further ! Look up, and laugh with us, — 'twas 
all a jest ! " 

And he did look up, and gazed, in a dazed wonderment, — 
for the disguises were stripped away, and the aged men nnd 
women were bright and young and gay again. Catharina's 
happy tongue ran on, — 

"' Twas a marvelous jest, and bravely carried out. They 



180 



A MARVELOUS JEST. 



gave you a heavy sleeping draught before you went to Led, 
and in the night they bore you to a ruined chamber Mhere 
all had fallen to decay, and placed these rags of clothing by 
you. And when your sleep was spent and you came forth, 
two strangers, well instructed in their parts, were here to 
meet you; and all we, your friends, in our disguises, were 
close at hand, to see and hear, you may be sure. Ah, ' twas 




"lead me to her grave." 

a gallant jest ! Come, now, and make thee ready for the 
pleasures of the day. How real was thy misery for the mo- 
ment, thou poor lad ! Look up and have thy laugh, now ! " 

He looked up, searched the merry faces about him in a 
dreamy way, then sighed and said, — 

"I am aweary, good strangers, I pray you lead me to her 
ffrave. 

o 

All the smiles vanished away, every cheek blanched, Cath- 
arina sunk to the ground in a swoon. 

All day the people went about the castle with troubled 
faces, and communed together in undertones. A painful hush 
pervaded the place which had lately been so full of cheery 
life. Each in his turn tried to arouse Conrad out of his hal- 
lucination and bring him to himself ; but all the answer any 
got was a meek, bewildered stare, and then the words, — 



THE END OF THE JOKE. 



181 



" Good stranger, 1 have no friends, all are at rest these 
many years; ye speak me fair, ye mean me well, but I know 
ye not ; I am alone and forlorn in the world, — prithee lead 
me to her grave." 

During two years Con- 
rad spent his days, from 
the early morning till the 
night, under the linden 
tree, mourning over the 
imaginary grave of his 
Catharina. Catliarina was 
the only company of the 
harmless madman. He 
was very friendly toM^ard 
her because, as he said, in 
some ways she reminded 
him of his Catharina whom 
he had lost "fifty years 
ago.-' He often said, — under the linden, 

" She was so gay, so happj^-hearted, — but you never 
smile ; and always when you think I am not looking, you 
cry." 

When Conrad died, they buried him under the linden, 
according to his directions, so that he might rest "near his 
poor Catharina." Then Catharina sat under the linden alone, 
every day and all day long, a great many years, speaking to 
no one, and never smiling; and at last her long repentance 
was rewarded with death, and she was buried by Conrad's 
side. 

Harris pleased the captain by saying it was a good legend ; 
and pleased him further by adding, — 

" Now that I have seen this mighty tree, vigorous with its 
four hundred years, 1 feel a desire to believe the legend for 
its sake ; so I will humor the desire, and consider that the 
tree really watches over those poor hearts and feels a sort of 
human tenderness for them." 




18:^ 



ASSUMING RESPONSIBILITIES. 



We returned to Neckarsteinacli, plunged our hot Lead 
into the trough at the town pump, and then went to the 
hotel and ate onr trout dinner, in leisurely comfort, in the 
garden, with the beautiful Neckar flowing at our feet, the 
quaint Dilsberg looming beyond, and the> graceful towers 
and battlements of a couple of medieval castles (called the 
"Swallow's Nest"* and "The Brothers") assisting the 
ragged scenery uf a bend of the river down to our right. 

We got to sea in 
season to make 
the eight-mile run 
t o Heidelberg be- 
fore the night 
shut down. We 
sailed by the hotel 
i n the mellow 
glow of sunset, 
and came slashing 
down with the 
mad current into 
the narrow pass- 
age between the 
dikes. I believed 
I could shoot the 
bridge myself, so 
I went to the for- 
^; ward triplet o f 
logs and relieved 
the pilot of his 
pole and his 

AN EXCELLENT PILOT — ONCE ! rCSpOUSl DlJlty . 

We went tearing along in a most exhilarating way, and 1 
performed the delicate duties of my ofiice very well indeed 
for a first attempt ; but perceiving presently, that I really 
was going to shoot the bridge itself instead of the archway 
under it, I judiciously stepped ashore. The next moment I 




*The seeker after information is referred to Appendix E for our Captain's 
TiBgend of the " Swallow's Nest " and " Tlie Brothers." 



A FEARFUL DISASTER. 



183 



had my long coveted desire : I saw a raft wrecked. It Lit tlie 
pier in the center and went all to smash and scatteration 
Hie a box of matches struck by lightning. 

I was the only one of our party who saw this grand eight ; 
the others were attitudin- 
izing, for the benefit of 
the long rank of young 
ladies who were prome- 
nading on the bank, and 
so they lost it. But I 
helped to fish them out of 
the river, down below the 
bridge, and then described 
it to them as well as I 
could. They were not 
interested, though. They 
said they were wet and 
felt ridiculous and did not care anything for descriptions ol 
scenery. The young ladies, and other people, crowded 
around and showed a great deal of sympathy, but that did 
not help matters ; for my fi'iends said they did not want 
sympathy, they wanted a back alley and solitude. 




SCA'l lEliAXloN 




CHAPTER XX. 

"VTEXT morning brought good news, — our trunks had ar- 
±\ rived from Hamburg at last. Let this be a warning 
to the reader. The Germans are very conscientious, and 
this trait makes them very particular. Therefore if you tell 
a German you want a thing done immediately, he takes you 
at your word ; he thinks you mean what you say ; so he does 
that thing immediately — according to his idea of immedi- 
ately — which is about a week ; that is, it is a week if it refers 
to the building of a garment, or it is an hour and a half if it 
refers to the cooking of a trout. Yery well ; if you tell a 
German to send your trunk to you by " slow freight," he 
takes you at your word; he sends it by "slow freight," and 
you cannot imagine how long you will go on enlarging your 
admiration of the expressiveness of that phrase in the Ger- 
man tongue, before you get that trunk. The hair on my 
trunk was soft and thick and youthful, when I got it ready 
for shipment in Hamburg; it was baldheaded when it reached 
Heidelberg. However, it was still sound, that was a comfort, 
it was not battered in the least ; the baggagemen seemed 
to be conscientiously careful, in Germany, of the baggage 
intrusted to their hands. There was nothing now in the way 
of our departure, therefore we set about our preparations. 

Naturally my chief solicitude was about my collection of 
Keramics. Of course I could not take it with me, that would 

184 



COLLECTION OF KERAMICS. 



185 




ETEUSCAN 
TEAE-JUG. 



be inconvenient, and dangerous besides. I took advice, but 
the best bric-a-brackers were divided as to the wisest course 
to pursue ; some said pack the collection and warehouse it ; 
others said try to get it into the Grand 
Ducal Museum at Mannheim for safe 
keeping. So I divided the collection, and 
followed the advice of both parties. I set 
aside, for the Museum, those articles 
which were the most frail and precious. 
Among these was my Etruscan tear-jug. 
I have made a little sketch of it here ; 
that thing creeping up the side is not a 
bug, it is a hole. I bought this tear- 
jug of a dealer in antiquities for four hundred and fifty dol- 
lars. It is very rare. The man said the Etruscans used to 
keep tears or something in these things, and that it was very 
hard to get hold of a broken one, now. I also set aside my 

Henri II plate. See sketch from 
my pencil ; it is in the main correct, 
though I think I have f oreghoi"tened 
one end of it a little too much, 
perhaps. This is very fine and rare ; 
the shape is exceedingly beautiful 
and unusual. It has wonderful 
decorations on it, but I am not 
able to reproduce them. It cost 
more than tlie tear-jug, as the dealer said there was not an- 
other plate just like it in the world. He said there was much 
false Henri II ware around, but that the genuineness of this 
piece was unquestionable. He showed me its pedigree, or its 
history if you please ; it was a document which traced this 
plate's movements all the way down from its birth, — showed 
who bought it, from whom, and what he paid for it — -from 
the first buyer down to me, whereby I saw that it had gone 
steadily up from thirty-five cents to seven hundred dollars. 
He said that the whole Keramic world would be informed 
that it was now in my possession and would make a note of 
it, with the price paid. 




HENRI II PLATE. 



186 A RARE RELIC. 













I 





CO 






RIDICULING KERAMIKERS, 187 

There were Masters in those days, but alas, it is not so 
now. Of course the main preciousness of this piece lies in 
its color; it is that old sensuous, pervading, ramifying, in- 
terpolating, transboreal bhie which is the despair of modern 
art. The little sketch which I have made of this gem can- 
not and does not do it justice, since I have been obliged to 
leave out the color. But I've got the expression though. 

However, I must not be frittering away the reader's time 
with these details, I did not intend to go into any detail at 
all, at first, but it is the failing of the true keramiker, or the 
true devotee in any department of brick-a-brackery, that once 
he gets his tongue or his pen started on his darling theme, he 
cannot well stop until he drops from exhaustion. He has no 
more sense of the flight of time than has any other lover 
when talking of his sweetheart. The very "marks" on the 
bottom of a piece of rare crockery are able to throw me 
into a gibbering ecstasy ; and I could forsake a drowning 
relative to help dispute about whether the stopple of a de- 
parted Buon Hetiro scent-bottle was genuine or spurious. 

Many people say that for a male person, bric-a-brac hunting 
is about as robust a business as making doll-clothes, or deco- 
rating Japanese pots with decalcomanie butterflies would be. 
and these people fling mud at that elegant Englishman, 
Byng, who wi-ote a book called " The Bric-a-Brac Hunter," 
and make fun of him for chasing around after what they 
choose to call "his despicable trifles;" and for "gushing" 
over these trifles ; and for exhibiting his " deep infantile 
delight " in what they call his " tuppenny collection of 
beggarly trivialities ; " and for beginning his book with a 
picture of himself, seated, in a "sappy, self-complacent 
attitude, in the midst of his poor little ridiculous bric-a-brac 
junk shop." 

It is easy to say these things ; it is easy to revile us, easy 
to despise us; therefore, let these people rail on ; they can- 
not feel as Byng and I feel, — it is their loss, not ours. For 
my part I am content to be a brick-a-bracker and a keramiker. 



188 



A GREAT MISFORTUNE. 



— more, I am proud to be so named. I am proud to know that 
I lose my reason as immediately in the presence of a rare jug 
with an illustrious mark on the bottom of it, as if I had just 
emptied that jug. Very well ; I packed and stored a part 
of my collection, and the rest of it I placed in the care of 
the Grand Ducal Museum in Mannheim, by permission. My 

Old Blue China 
Cat remains there 
yet. I presented 
it to that excellent 
institution. 

I had but one 
misfortune w i t h 
m y things. A n 
egg which I had 
kept back from 
breakfast that 
morning, w as 
broken in packing. 
It was a great pity. 
I had shown it to 
the best connois- 
seurs in Heidel- 
berg, and ^ley all 
said it was'wh an- 
tique. W& spent 
a day or two in 
farewell visits, and then left for Baden-Badtn. We had a 
pleasant trip of it, for the Ehine valley is always lovely. 
The only trouble was that the trip was too short. If I re- 
member rightly it only occupied a couple of hours, there- 
fore I judge that the distance was very little, if any, over 
fifty miles. We quitted the train at Oos, and walked the 
entire remaining distance to Baden-Baden, with the except- 
ion of a lift of less than an hour wliich we got on a passing 
wagon, the weather being exhaustingly warm. We came 
into town on foot. 




A KEAL ANTIQUE. 




BRIC-A-BRAC SHOP. 



MEETING AN AMERICAN. 191 

One of the first persons we encountered, as we walked up 
the street, was the E,ev. Mr. , an old friend from Ameri- 
ca, — a lucky encounter, indeed, for his is a most gentle, refin- 
ed and sensitive nature, and his company and companionship 
are a genuine refreshment. We knew he had been in Europe 
sometime, but were not at all expecting to run across him. 
Both p irties burst forth into loving enthusiasms, and Rev. 
Mr. said, — 

" I have got a brim-full reservoir of talk to pour out on you, 
and an empty one ready and thirsting to receive what you 
have got ; we will sit up till midnight and have a good satis- 
fying interchange, for I leave here early in the morning." 
We agreed to that, of course. 

I had been vaguely conscious, for a while, of a person who 
was walking in the street abreast of us ; I had glanced fur- 
tively at him once or twice, and noticed that he was a fine, 
large, vigorous young fellow, with an open, independent 
countenance, faintly shaded with a pale and even almost 
imperceptible crop of early down, and that he was clothed 
from head to heel in cool and enviable snow-white linen. I 
thought I had also noticed, that his head had a sort of listen- 
ing tilt to it. Now about this time the Rev. Mr. said, — 

" The side-walk is hardly wide enough for three, so I will 
walk behind ; but keep the talk going, keep the talk going, 
there's no time to lose, and you may be sure I will do my 
share." He ranged himself behind us, and straightway that 
stately snow-white young fellow closed up to the side-walk 
alongside him, fetched him a cordial slap on the shoulder with 
his broad palm, and sung out with a hearty cheeriness, — 

" Americans, for two-and-a-half and the money up ! Hey ? " 

The Reverend winced, but said mildly, — 

" Yes, — we are Americans." 

" Lord love you, you can just bet that's what Zam, every 
time! Put it there!" 

He held out his Sahara of a palm, and the Reverend laid 
his diminutive hand in it, and got so cordial a shake that we 
heard his glove burst under it. 
12 



192 



THE ASTONISHED PARSON. 



" Say, didn't I put you up right ? " 
" O, yes." 

" Slio ! I spotted 3^ou for my kind the minute I heard your 
clack. You been over here long?" 

" About four months. Have you been over long ? " 




"put I'i' THERE." 

" Long\ Well I should say so ! Going on two years, by 
geeminy ! Say, are you homesick ? " 

'•'No, I can't say that I am. Are you ? " 

" O, hell yes!" This with immense enthusiasm. 

The Reverend shrunk a little, in his clothes, and we were 
aware, rather by instinct than otherwise, tliathe was throwing 
out signals of distress to us ; but we did not interfere or try 
to succor him, for we were quite happy. 

The 3^oung fellow hooked his arm into the Reverend's, 
now, with the confiding and grateful air of a waif who has 
been longing for a friend, and a sympathetic ear, and a chance 
to lisp once more the sweet accents of the mother tongue, — 
and then he limbered up the muscles of his mouth and turned 
himself loose, — and with such a relish ! Some of his words 
were not Sunday school words, so I am obliged to put blanks 
where they occur. 

" Yes indeedy ! If / ain't an American there ainH any 
Americans, that's all. And when I heard you fellows gassing 
away in the good old American language, I'm if it 



CHOLLEY ADAMS. 193 

wasn't all I could do to keep from hugging joii ! Mj tongue's 

all warped with trying to curl it around these 

-forsaken wind-galled nine-jointed German words here ; 



now I tell you it's awful good to lay it over a Christian word 
once more and kind of let the old taste soak in. I'm from 
western New York. My name is Cholley Adams. I'm a 
student, you know. Been here going on two years. I'm 
learning to be a horse-doctor. I like that part of it, you 

know, but these people, they won't learn a 

fellow in his own language, they make him learn in Ger- 
man ; so before I could tackle the horse-doctoring I had to 
tackle this miserable language. 

"First-oif, I thought it would certainly give me the botts, 
but I don't mind it now. I've got it where the hair's short, 
I think ; and dontchuknow, they made me learn Latin, too. 

Now between you and me, I wouldn't give a for all the^ 

Latin that was ever jabbered ; and the first thing 1 calculate 
to do when I get through, is to just sit down and forget il?.. 
'Twont take me long, and I don't mind the time, anyway.. 
And I tell you what ! the difference between school-teaching 
over yonder and school-teaching over here, — slio ! We don't 
know anything about it ! Here you've got to peg and peg 
and peg and there just ain't any let-up, — and what you learn 
here, you've got to know, dontchuknow, — or else you'll have 

one of these spavined, spectacled, ring-boned', 

knock-kneed old professors in your hair. I've been here 
long enough, and I'm getting blessed tired of it, mind I 
tell you. The old man wrote me that he was coming over 
in June, and said he'd take me home in August, whether I 
was done with ray education or not, butdurn him, he didn't 
come; never said why; just sent me a hamper of Snn- 
day school books, and told me to be good, and hold on a 
while. I don't take to Sunday school books, dontchuknow, 
— I don't hanker after them when I can get pie, — but I read 
them, anyway, because whatever the old man tells me to do, 
that's the thing that I'm a-going to do, or tear something you 
know. I buckled in and read all of those books, because he 



194 



THE HOMESICK AMERICAN. 



wanted me to ; but that kind of thing don't excite me, I like 
something hearty. But I'm awful homesick, I'm homesick 
from ear-socket to crupper, and from crupper to hock joint ; 
but it ain't any use, I've got to stay here, till the old man 
drops the rag and gives the word, — yes, sir, right here in this 

country I've got to linger till the old man says 

Come ! — and you bet your bottom dollar, Johnny, it ain't 
just as ea^y as it is for a cat to have twins ! " 

At the end of this profane and cordial explosion he 




THE PARSON CAPTURED. 

fetched a prodigious " Whoosh!'''' to relieve his lungs and 
make recognition of the heat, and then he straightway dived 
into his narrative again for "Johnny's" benefit, beginning, 

""Well '■ it ain't any use talking, some of those 

old American words do have a kind of a bully swing to them ; 
a man can express himself with 'em, — a man can get at what 
he wants to say, dontchuknow." 

When we reached our hotel and it seemed that he was 
about to lose the Reverend, he showed so much sorrow, and 
begged so hard and so earnestly that the Reverend's heart 
was not hard enough to hold out against the pleadings, — so 
he went away with the parent-honoring student, like a right 
Christian, and took supper with him in his lodgings and sat 



NOT A BAD FELLOW. 



195 



in the surf-beat of his slang and profanity till near midnight, 
and then left him, — left him pretty well talked out, but 
grateful " clear down to his frogs," as he expressed it. The 
Reverend said it had transpired during the interview that 
" Cholley " Adams's father was an extensive dealer in horses 
in western New York ; this accounted for Cholley's choice 
of a profession. The Heverend brought away a pretty high 
opinion of Cholley as a manly young fellow, with stuff in 
him for a useful citizen ; he considered him rather a rough 
gem, but a gem, nevertheless. 




CHAPTEE XXI. 

BADEN-BADEN sits in the lap of the hills, and the 
natural and artificial beauties of the surroundings are 
combined effectively and charmingly. The level strip of 
ground which stretches through and beyond the town is laid 
out in handsome pleasure grounds, shaded by noble trees 
and adorned at intervals with lofty and sparkling fountain- 
jets. Thrice a day a fine band makes music in the public 
promenade before the Conversation-House, and in the after- 
noon and evenings that locality is populous with fashionably 
dressed people of both sexes, who march back and forth 
past the great music stand and look very much bored, though 
they make a show of feeling otherwise. It seems like a 
ratlier aimless and stupid existence. A good many of these 
people are there for a real purpose, liowever ; they aie 
racked with rheumatism, and they are there to stew it out 
in the hot baths. These invalids looked melancholy enough, 
h'mping about on their canes and crutches, and apparently 
brooding over all sorts of cheerless things. People say that 
Germany, with lier damp stone houses, is the home of 
rheumatism. If that is so. Providence must have foreseen 
that it would be so, and therefore filled the land with these 
healing baths. Perhaps no other country is so generously 
supplied with medicinal springs as Germany. Some of these 
baths are good for one ailment, some for another; and again, 



ENERGETIC GIRLS. 



197 



peculiar ailments are conquered by combining the individual 
virtues of several diiFerent baths. For instance, for some 
forms of disease, the patient drinks the native hot v^ater of 
Baden-Baden, with a spoonful of salt from the Carlsbad 
springs dissolved in it. That is not a dose to be forgotten 
right away. 

They don't sell thte hot water ; no, you go into the great 

Trinkhalle, and 
stand around, 
first on one foot 
and then on the 
other, while 
two or three 
young girls sit 
pottering at 
some sort of 
lady-like sewing 
work in your 
neighborh ood 
and can't seem 
to see y o u, — 
polite as three- 
dollar clerks in 
govern m e n t 
offices. 

By and by one 
of these rises 
painfully, and 
" stretches ; " — 
stretches lists 
and body 
=^ heavenward till 
she raises her 
heels from the 
A COMPREHENSIVE YAWN. floor, at the Same 

time refreshing herself with a yawn of such comprehensive- 
ness that the bulk of her face disappears behind her upper 




198 



A BEGGARS TRICK. 



lip and one is able to see liow she is constructed inside, — 
then she slowlj closes her cavern, brings down her lists and 
her heels, comes languidly forward, contemplates you con- 
temptuously, draws you a glass of hot water and sets it down 
where you can get it by reaching for it. You take it and 
say,— 

"How much?" — and she returns you, with elaborate in- 
difference, a beggar's answer, — 

" Nach Beliebe^ (what you please.) 

This thing of using the common beggar's trick and the 
common beggar's shibboleth to put you on your liberality 
when you were expecting a simple straight-forward commer- 
cial transaction, adds a little to your prospering sense of 
irritation. You ignore her reply, and ask again, — 

"How much? " 
— and she calmly, indifferently, repeats, — 

"iVacA BelieleP 

You are getting angry, but you are trying not to show it ; 
you resolve to keep on asking your question till she changes 
her answer, or at least her annoyingly indifferent manner. 
Therefore, if your case be like mine, you two fools stand 
there, and without perceptible emotion of any kind, or 
any emphasis on any syllable, you look blandly into each 

other's eyes, and hold 



the following idiotic 

conversation, — 
" How much ? " 
" Nach Beliebe." 
" How much ? " 
" Nach Beliebe." 
" How much ? " 
" Nach Beliebe." 
"How much ? '* 
" N;ich Beliebe." 
" How much % " 
" Nach Beliebe." 
" How much ? " 




TESTING THE COIN. 



COOL IMPUDENCE. 



199 



" Nach Beliebe." 

1 do not know what another person would have done, but 
at this point I gave it up ; that cast-iron indifference, that 
tranquil contemptuousness, conquered me, and I struck my 
colors. J^ow I knew she was used to receiving about a 
penny from manly people who care notliing about the opin- 
ions of scullery maids, and about tuppence from moral 
cowards; but I laid a silver twenty-five cent piece within 
her reach and tried to shrivel her up with this sarcastic 
speech, — 

" If it isn't enougli, will you stoop sufficiently from your 
official dignity to say so?" 

She did not shrivel. Without deigning to look at me at 
all, she languidly lifted 
the coin and bit it ! — to 
see if it was good. Then 
she turned her back and 
])hicidly waddled to her 
former roost again, toss- 
ing the money into an 
open till as she went 
along. She was victor 
to the last, you see. 

I have enlarged upon 
the ways of this girl 
because they are typical ; 
her manners are the man- 
ners of a goodly number 
of the Baden-Baden shop 
keepers. The shop 
keeper there swindles 
you if he cnn, and insults 
you whether he succeeds in swindling you or not. The 
keepers of baths also take great and patient pains to insult 
you. The frowsy woman who sat at the desk in the lobby 
of the great Friederichsbad and sold bath tickets, not onlj 




BEAUTY AT THE BATH. 



200 INSOLENCE OF SHOP-KEEPERS. 

insulted me twice every day, with rigid fidelity to her great 
trust, but she took trouble enough to cheat me out of a shilling, 
one day, to have fairly entitled her to ten. Baden-Baden's 
splendid gamblers are gone, only her microscopic knaves 
remain. 

An English gentleman who had been living there several 
years, said, — 

" If you could disgui&e your nationality, you would not 
find any insolence here. These shop-keepers detest the Eng- 
lish and despise the Americans; they are rude to both, more 
especially to ladies of your nationality and mine. If these 
go siiopping without a gentleman or a man servant, they are 
tolerably sure to be subjected to petty insolences, — inso- 
lences of manner and tone, rather than word, though words 
that are hard to bear are not alwa^^s wanting. I know of 
an instance where a shop-keeper tossed a coin back to an 
American lady with the remark, snappishly uttered, 'We 
don't take French money here.' — And I know of a case 
where an English lady said to one of these shop-keepers, 
' Don't you think you ask too much for this article?' and he 
replied with the question, ' Do you think you are obliged to 
buy it?' However, these people are not impolite to Russ- 
ians or Germans. And as to rank, they worship that, for they 
have long been used to generals and nobles. If you wish 
to see to what abysses servility can descend, present yourself 
before a Baden-Baden shop-keeper in the character of a 
Russian prince." 

It is an inane town, filled with sham, and petty fraud, 
and snobbery, but the baths are good. I spoke with many 
people, and they were all agreed in that. I had had twinges 
of rheumatism unceasingly during three years, but the last 
one departed after a fortnight's bathing there, and I have 
never had one since. I fully believe I left my rheumatism 
in Baden-Baden. Baden-Baden is welcome to it. It was 
little, but it was all I had to give. I would have preferred 
to leave something that was catching, but it was not in my 
power. 



TAKING A BATH. 



201 



There are several hot springs there, and dr.ring two 
thousand years they liave poured forth a never diminishing 
abundance of the healing water. This water is conducted 
in pipes to the numerous bath houses, and is reduced to aii 
endurable temperature by the addition of cold water. The 
new Friederichsbad is a very large and beautiful building, 
and in it one may have any sort of bath that has ever been 
invented, and with all the additions of herbs and drugs that 
his ailment may need or that the physician of the establish- 
ment may consider a useful thing to put into the water. 
You go there, enter the great door, get a bow graduated to 
your style and clothes from the gorgeous portier, and a batli 
ticket and an insult from the frowsy woman for a quarter, 
she strikes a bell and a serving man conducts you down a 
long hall and shuts you into a commodious room which has 
a washstand, a mirror, a bootjack and a sofa in it, and there 
you undress at your leisure. 

The room is divided by a great curtain; you draw this 
curtain aside, and find a large white marble bath-tub, with 
its rim sunk to the level of the floor, and with three white 
marble steps leading down into it. This tub is full of water 
which is as clear as crystal, and is tempered to 28° Reaumur, 
(about 95" Fahrenheit.) Sunk into the floor, by the tub, is 




IN THK BATH. 

a covered copper box which contains some warm towels and 
a sheet. You look fully as white as an angel when you <ire 



202 LATE AND EARLY HOURS. 

stretched out in that limpid bath. You remain in it ten 
iiiinnteSj the lirst time, and afterwards increase the duration 
from day to day, till you reach twenty-five or thirty minutes. 
There you stop. The appointments of the place are so luxu- 
rious, the benefit so marked, the price so moderate, and the 
insults so sure, that you very soon find yourself adoring the 
Friederichsbad and infesting it. 

We had a plain, simple, unpretending, good hotel, in Bad- 
en-Baden, — the Hotel de France, — and alongside my room 
1 had a giggling, cackling, chattering family who always 
went to bed just two hours after me and always got up just 
' two hours ahead of me. But that is common in German 
hotels; the people generally go to bed long after eleven and 
get up long before eiij;ht. The partitions convey sound like 
a drum-head, and everybody knows it; but no matter, a 
German family who are all kindness and consideration in 
the daytime make apparently no efi'ort to moderate their 
noises for your benefit at night. They will sing, laugh and 
talk loudly, and bang furniture around in the most pitiless 
way. If you knock on your wall appealingly, they will 
quiet down and discuss the matter softly amongst themselves 
for a moment, — then, like the mice, they fall to persecuting 
you again, and as vigorously as before. They keep cruelly 
late and early hours, for such noisy folk. 

Of course when one begins to find fault with foreign peo- 
ple's ways, he is very likely to get a reminder to look nearer 
liome, before he gets far with it. I open my note book to 
see if I can find some more information of a valuable nature 
about Baden-Baden, and the first thing I fall upon is this: 

Baden-Baden, (no date.) Lot of vociferous Americans at 
breakfast this morning. Talking at everybody, while pre- 
tending to talk among themselves. On their first travels, 
manifestly. Showing off. The usual signs,— airy, easy- 
going references to grand distances and foreign places. 
" Well, good-hje, old fellow,— if I don't run across you in 
Italy, you hunt me up in London before you sail." 



ARGUMENT AGAINST EMIGRATION. 



203 



The next item which I find in my note-book is this one : 
" The fact that a band of 6,000 Indians are now murdering 
our frontiersmen at their impudent leisure, and that we are 
only able to send 1200 soldiers against them, is utilized here 
to discourage emigration to America. The common people 
think the Indians are in New Jersey." 

This is a new and peculiar argument against keeping our ar- 
my down to a ridic- 
ulous figure in the 
matter of numbers. 
It is rather a strik- 
ing-one, too. I have 
not distorted the 
truth in saying that 
the facts in the 
above item, about 
the army and the 
Indians, are made 
use of to discour- 
ao;e emio-ration to 
America. That the 
common people 
should be rather 
foggy in their geog. 
raphy, and foggy 
as to the location 




JERSEY INDIANS. 



of the Indians, is matter for amusement, maybe, but not of 
surprise. 

There is an interesting old cemetery in Baden-Baden, and 
we spent several pleasant hours in wandering througli it and 
spelling out the inscriptions on the aged tombstones. Appar- 
ently after a man has lain there a century or two, and has 
had a good many people buried on top of him, it is considered 
that his tombstone is not needed by him any longer. I judge 
so from the fact that hundreds of old gravestones have been 
removed from the graves and placed against the inner walls 



204 AN OLD CEMETERY 

of the cemetery. What artists they had in the old times ! 
Tiiey chiseled angels and cherubs and devils and skeletons 
on the tombstones In the most lavish and generous way, — as 
to supply, — but curiously grotesque and outlandish as to form. 
It is not always easy to tell which of the figures belong among 
the blest and which of them among the opposite party. But 
there was an inscription, in French, on one of those old 
stones, vidiich was quaint and pretty, and was plainly not the 
work of any other than a poet. It was to this effect : 

Here 
Reposes in God, 
Caroline de Clert, 
A Religieuse of St. Denis, 
aged 83 years, — and blind. 
The light was restored to her 
IN Baden the 5th of January, 
1839. 
We made several excursions on foot to the neighboring 
villages, over winding and beautiful roads and through en- 
chanting w^oodland scenery. The woods and roads were 
similar to those at Heidelberg, but not so bewitching. I 
suppose that roads and woods which are up to the Heidelberg 
mark are rare in the world. 

Once we wandered clear away to La Favorita Palace, which 
is several miles from Baden-Baden. The grounds about the 
palace were fine; the palace was a curiosity. It was built 
by a Margravine in 1725, and remains as she left it at her 
death. We wandered through a great many of its rooms, 
and they all had striking peculiarities of decoration. For 
instance, the walls of one room were pretty completely cov- 
ered with small pictures of the Margravine in all conceivable 
varieties of fanciful costumes, some of them male. 

The walls of another room were covered with grotesquely 
and elaborately figured hand-wrought tapestry. The musty 
ancient beds remained in the chambers, and their quilts and 
curtains and canopies were decorated with curious hand-work, 



THE MARGRAVINE'S CHAPEL. 205 

and the walls and ceilings frescoed with historical and mytho- 
logical scenes in glaring colors. There was enough crazj and 
rotten rubbish in the building to make the true brick-a-bracker 
green with envy. A painting in the dining hall verged upon 
the indelicate, — but then the Margravine was herself a trifle 
indelicate. 

It is in every way a wildly and picturesquely decorated 
house, and brimfull of interest as a reflection of the character 
and tastes of that rude bygone time. 

In the grounds, a few rods from the palace, stands the 
Margravine's chapel, just as she left it, — a coarse wooden 
structure, whollj^ barren of ornament. It is said that the 
Margravine would give herself up to debauchery and exceed- 
ingly fast living for several months at a time, and then retire 
to this miserable wooden den and spend a few months in 
repenting and getting ready for another good time. She was 
a devoted Catholic, and was perhaps quite a model sort of 
a Christian as Christians went then, in high life. 

Tradition says she spent the last two years of her life in 
the strange den I have been speaking of, after having indulged 
herself in one final, triumphant and satisfying spree. She 
shut herself up there, without company, and without even a 
servant, and so abjured and forsook the world. In her little 
bit of a kitchen she did her own cooking ; she wore a hair 
shirt next the skin, and castigated herself with whips, — these 
aids to grace are exhibited there yet. She prayed and told 
her beads, in another little room before a waxen Yirgin niched 
in a little box against the wall ; she bedded herself like a 
slave. 

In another small room is an nnpainted wooden table, and 
behind it sit half -life-size waxen figures of the Holy Family, 
made by the very worst artist that ever lived, perhaps, and 
clothed in gaudy, flimsy drapery. * The Margravine used 



* The Savior was represented as a lad of about 15 years of age. This 
figure had lost one eye. 



206 GOOD STOCK FOR A MIRACLE-FACTORY. 

to bring her meals to this table and dine with the Holy 
Ftirrilly. What an idea that was ! What a grisly spectacle 
it must have been ! Imagine it : Those rigid, shock-headed 
figures, with corpsj complexions and iisliy glass eyes, occupy- 




NOT ^AKTICULARLT SOCIA.BLB. 

ing one side of the table in the constrained attitudes and dead 
fixedness that disHnguish all men that are born of wax, tmd 
this wrinkled, smouldering old fire-eater occupying the other 
side, mumbling her prayers and munching her sausages in the 
ghostly stillness and shadowy indistinctness of a winter twi- 
light. It makes one feel crawly even to think of it. 

1\\ this sordid place, and clothed, bedded and fed like a pau- 
per, this strang'e princess lived and worshiped during two 
rears, and in it she died. Two or three hundred years ago, 
this would have made the poor deii holy ground ; and the 
church would have set up a miracle-factory there and made 
plenty of money out of it. The den could be moved into 
some portions of France and made a good property even now. 



CHAPTEE XXIL 

FROM Baden-Baden we made the customary trip into the 
Black Forest. We were on foot most of the time. One 
cannot describe those noble woods, nor the feeling with which 
thej inspire him. A feature of the feeling, however, is a deep 
sense of contentment ; another feature of it is a buoyant, boy- 
ish gladne^^s ; and a third and very conspicuous feature of it 
is one's sense of the remoteness of the work-day world and 
his entire emancipation from it and its affairs. 

Those woods stretch unbroken over a vast region ; and 
everywhere they are such dense woods, and so still, and so 
piney and fragrant. The stems of the trees are trim and 
straight, and in many places all the ground is hidden for miles 
under a thick cushion of moss of a vivid green color, with not 
a decayed or ragged spot in its surface, and not a fallen leaf 
or twig to mar its immaculate tidiness. A rich cathedral 
gloom pervades the pillared aisles ; so the stray flecks of sun- 
light that strike a trunk here and a bough yonder are strongly 
accented, and when they strike the moss they fairly seem to 
burn. But the wierdest effect, and the most enchanting, is 
that produced by the diffused light of the low afternoon sun ; 
no single ray is able to pierce its way in, then, but the dif- 
fused light takes color from moss and foliage, and pervades 
the place like a faint, green-tinted mist, the theatrical fire of 

fairyland. The suggestion of mystery and the supernatural 
1 o 



208 



IN THE BLACK FOREST. 



which haunts the forest at all times, is intensified by this 
unearthly glow. 

We found the Black Forest farm houses and villages all that 
the Black Forest stories have pictured them. The first genu- 
ine specimen which we came upon was the mansion of a rich 
farmer and member of the Common Council of the parish or 




•N.Fr. Bra^Mn- — - ' ^.^:^==- 



BLACK FOREST GRANDEE. 



district. He was an important personage in the land and so 
was his wife also, of course. His daughter was the " catch " 
of the region, and she may be already entering into immor- 
tality as the heroine of one of Auerbach's novels for all I 
know. We shall see, for if he puts her in I shall recognize 
her by her Black Forest clothes, and her burned complexion, 



A BLACK FOREST "CATCH." 209 

iier plump figure, her fat bauds, her dull expression, her gen- 




GRANDEE S DAUGHTER. 



tie spirit, her o;eneroiis feet, her bonnetless head, and the plait- 
ed tails of hemp-colored hair hanging down her back. 

The house was big enough for a hotel ; it was a hundred 
feet long and fifty wide, and ten feet high, from ground to 



210 A GRANDEE'S HOME. 

eaves ; but from the eaves to tlie comb of the mighty roof 
was as nmeh as forty feel, or maybe even more. This roof 
was of ancient mud-colored straw thatch a foot thick, and 
was covered all over, except iu a few trifling spots, with a 
thriving and luxurious growth of green vegetation, mainly 
moss. The mossless spots were places where repairs had 
been made by the insertion of bright new masses of yelluw 
straw. The eaves projected far down, like t-heltering, hospi- 
table wings. Across the gable that fronted the road, and 
about ten feet above the ground, ran a narrow porch, with 
a wooden railing ; a row of small windows filled with very 
small panes looked upon the porch. Above were two or 
three other little windows, one clear up under the sharp apex 
of the roof. Before the ground-floor door was a huge pile 
of manure. T^lie door of a second-story room on the side of 
the house was open, and occupied by the rear elevation of a 
cow. Was this probably the drawing-room ? All of the 
front half of the hou'se from the ground up seemed to be 
occupied by the people, the cows and the chickens, and all 
the rear half by draft animals and hay. But the chief feat- 
ure, all around tliis house was the big heaps of manure. 

We became ver}^ familiar with the fei'tilizer in the Forest. 
We fell unconsciously into the habit of judging of a man's 
station in life by this outward and eloquent sign. Sometimes 
we said "Here is a poor devil, this is manifest." When 
we saw a stately accumulation, we said, " Here is a banker " 
When we encountered a country seat suri-ounded by an Al- 
pine pomp of manure, we said, " Doubtless a Duke lives here." 

The importance of this feature has not been properly mag- 
nified in the Black Forest stories. Manure is evidently tlie 
Black Foreftei-'s main treasure, — his coin, his jewel, his 
pride, his Old Master, his keramics, his bric-a-brac, his dai- 
ling, his title to public consideration, envy, veneration, and 
his first solicitude when he gets ready to make his will. The 
true Black Forest novel, if it is ever written, will be skele- 
toned somewhat in this way : 



AN UNWRITTEN STORY. 



211 




RICH OLD HUSS. 



Skeleton for Black Forest Novel. 
Rich old farmer, named Huss. Has inherited great wealth 
of manure, and by diligence has added to it. It is double- 
starred in Baedeker.* The Black Forest artist paints it — his 
masterpiece. The king comes to see it. Gretchen Huss, 
daughter and heiress. Paul 
Hoch, young neighbor, suitor 
for Gretchen's hand, — ostensi- 
bly ; he really wants the man- 
ure. Hoch has a good many 
cart-loads of the Black Forest 
currency himself, and therefore 
is a good catch ; but he is sordid, 
mean, and without sentiment, 
whereas Gretchen is all senti- 
ment and poetry. Hans Schmidt, 
young neighbor, full of sentiment, full of poetry, loves Greft- 
chen, Gretchen loves him. But he has no manure. Old 

Huss forbids him the 
house. His heart breaks, 
he goes away to die in 
the woods, far from the 
cruel world, — for he says, 
bitterly, ' What is m^m, 
without manure ?" 

[ iiterval of six months.] 
Paul Hoch comec to 
old Huss and says, " I am 
at last as rich as you 
required, — come and view 
the pile." Old Huss views 
it and says, "It is sufficient— take her and be happy,"— 
meaning Gretchen. 

[Interval of two weeks.] 




GRETCHEN. 



* When Baedeker's guide books mention a thing and put two stare * • 
afXtT it, it means =" veell worth visiting. M.. T. 



212 



ALMOST A WEDDING. 




Wedding party assembled in old Huss's drawing room ; 
Hocli placid and content, Gretchen weeping over her hard 

fate. Enter old Bass's head book- 
keeper. Huss sajs tiercelj, "■ I 
•-x gave you three weeks to find out 
J) why your books don't balance, and 
to prove that you are not a default- 
er ; the time is up, — find me the 
missing property or you go to 
prison as a thief. ^' Book-keeper: 
"I have found it." "Where?" 
Book-keeper : sternly,— tragically : 
" In the bridegroom's pile ! — behold 
the thief — see him blench and 
tremble!" [Sensation.] Paul Hocli: " Lost, lost ! "—falls 
over the cow in a swoon and is handcuffed. Gretchen: 
" Saved ! " Falls over the calf in a swoon of joy, but is 
caught in the arms of Hans Schmidt, who springs in at 
that moment. Old Huss: "What, 
you here, varlet ? unhand the maid 
and quit the place." Hans : still sup- 
porting the insensible girl : "Nev- 
er! Cruel old man, know that I 
come with claims which even you 
can not despise." 

Huss: "What, you'^i name them." 
Hans: "Then listen. The world 
had forsaken me, I forsook the world 
I wandered in the solitude of the 
forest, longing for death but finding 
none. I fed upon roots, and in my bitterness I dug for the 
bittei-est, loathing the sweeter kind. Digging, three days 
agone, 1 struck a manure mine! — a Golconda, a limitless Bo- 
nanza, of solid manure ! I can buy you all, and liave moun- 
tain ranges of manu'-e lef<" ' Ha-ha, now tliou smilest a smile !" 
[Immen-e sensation ] Exhibition of sDeoimens from the mine. 
Old Hnss, enthusiastically : "Wake her up, shake her up, 




HANS SCHMIDT. 



MEMBERS OF THE COMMON COUNCIL. 



213 



noble young man, slie is yours ! " Wedding takes place on 
the spot ; book-keeper restored to his office and emoluments ; 
Paul Hoch led off to jail. The Bonanza king of the Black 
Forest lives to a good old age, blessed with the love of his 
wife and of his twenty-seven children, and the still sweeter 
envy of everybody around. 




ELECTING A NEW MEMBER. 



We took our noon meal of fried trout one day at the Plow 
Inn, in a very pretty village, (Ottenhofen,) and then went 
into the public room to rest and smoke. There we found 
nine or ten Black Forest grandees assembled around a table. 
They were the Common Council of the parish. They had gath- 
ered there at 8 o'clock that morning to elect a new member, 
and they had now been drinking beer four hours at the new 
member's expense. They were men of fifty or sixty years 
of age, with grave good-natured faces, and were all dressed 



214 STUDYING NATURAL HISTORY. 

in the costume made familiar to us by the Black Forest sto- 
ries : broad, round-topped black felt bats with tlie brims curled 
up all around ; long red waistcoats with large metal buttons, 
black alpaca coats with the waists up between the shoulders. 
There were no speeches, there was but little talk, there were 
no frivolities; the Council filled themselves gradually, steadi- 
ly, but surely, with beer, and conducted themselves with sedate 
decorum, as became men of position, men of influence, men 
of manur'g. 

"We had a hot afternoon tramp np the valley, along the 
grassy bank of a rushing stream of clear water, past farm 
houses, water mills, and no end of waj'side crucifixes and saints 
and Virgins. These crucifixes, etc., are set up in memory of 
departed friends by survivors, and are almost as frequent as 
telegraph poles are in other lands. 

We followed the carriage road, and had our usual luck : we 
traveled under a beating sun, and always saw the shade leave 
the shady places before we could get to them. In all our 
wanderings we seldom managed to strike a piece of road at 
its time for being shady. We had a particularly hot time of 
it on that particular afternoon, and with no comfort but what 
we could get out of the fact that the peasants at work away up 
on the steep mountain sides above our heads were even worse 
off than we were. By and by it became impossible to en- 
dure the intolerable glare and heat any longer; so we struck 
across the ravine and entered the deep cool twilight of the 
forest, to hunt for what the guide book called the "old road." 

We found an old road, and it proved eventually to be the 
right one, though we followed it at the time with the convic- 
tion that it was the wrong one. If it was the wrong one there 
could be no use in hurrying, therefore we did not hurry, but 
sat down frequently on the soft moss and enjoyed the restful 
quiet and shade of the forest solitudes. There had been dis- 
tractions in the carriage road, — school children, peasants, wag 
ons, troops of pedestrianizing students from all over Germany, 
— but we had the old road all to ourselves. 



THE A]ST A FRAUD. 215 

Now and then, while we rested, we watched the laborions 
ant at his work. 1 found nothing new in him, — certainly 
nothing to change my opinion of him. It seems to me that 
in the matter of intellect the ant must be a strangely overra- 
ted bird. During many summers, now, I have watched him, 
when 1 ought to have been in better business, and 1 have not 
yet come across a living ant that seemed to have any more 
sense than a dead one. 1 refer to the ordinary ant, of course ; 
1 have had no experience of those wonderful Swiss and Af- 
rican ones which vote, keep drilled armies, hold slaves, and 
dispute about religion. Those particular ants may be all that 
the naturalist paints them, but 1 am persuaded that the aver- 
age ant is a sham. I admii. his industry, of course ; he is the 
hardest working creature in the world, — when anybody is 
looking, — but his leather-headedness is the point I make 
against him. He goes ont foraging, he makes a capture, and 
tten what does he do? Go home? No,— he goes anywhere 
liitiiome. iiedoesn^tknovr where home is. His home may be 
only three feet away, — no matter, he can't find it. He makes 
his capture, as I have said ; it is generally something which 
can be of no sort of use to himself or anybody else ; it is usu- 
ahy seven times bigger than it ought to be ; he hunts out the 
awkwardest place to take hold of it ; he lifts it bodily up in 
the air by main force, and starts : not toward home, but in 
the opposite direction ; not calmly and wisely, but with a 
frantic haste which is wasteful of his strength ; he fetches lip 
agai. st a pebble, and instead of going around it, he climbs 







mMWjM^mim 







OVERCOMING OBSTACLES. 



over it backwards dragging his booty after him, tumbles down 
on the other side, jumps np in a passion, kicks the dust off his 



216 ECCENTRICITIES OF THE ANT. 

clothes, moistens Lis Lands, grabs Lis property viciously, 
yanks it this way tLen tLat, sLovesit ahead of Lim a moment, 
turns tail and lugs it after Lim anotLer moment, gets mad- 
der and madder, tlien presently hoists it into tlie air and goes 
tearing away in an entirely new direction ; comes to a weed ; 
it never occurs to Lim to go around it ; no, Le must climb 
it ; and he does climb it, dragging his worthless property 
to the top — wLicL is as brigLt a tLing to do as it would be 
for me to carry a sack of flour from Heidelberg to Paris 
by way of Strasburg steeple ; wLen Le gets up tLere Le finds 
tLat tLat is not tlie place ; takes a cursory glance at tLe scenery 
and eitLer climbs down again or tumbles down, and starts off 
once more — as usual, in a new direction. At tlie end of Lalf 
an Lour, he fetches up witLin six incLes of tlie place Le started 
from and lays Lis burden down ; meantime Le Las been over 
all tlie ground for two yards around, and climbed all tLe weeds 
and pebbles Le came across. Now Le wipes tLe sweat from 
Lis brow, strokes bis limbs, and tLen marcLes aimlessly off, 
in as violent a hurry as ever. He traverses a good deal of 
zig-zag country, and by and by stumbles on his same booty 
again. He does not remember to have ever seen it before; 
he looks around to see which is not the way home, grabs his 
bundle and starts ; he goes through the same adventures he 
had before ; finally stops to rest, and a friend comes along. 
Evidently the friend remarks that a last year's grasshopper 
leg is a very noble acquisition, and inquires where he got it. 




Evidently the proprietor does not remember exactly where 
he did get it, but thinks he got it " around here somewhere." 
Evidently the friend contracts to help him freight it home. 



A FIGHT BETWEEN FRIENDS, 217 

Tlien, with a judgment peculiarly antic, (pun not intention- 
al,) they take hold of opposite ends of that grasshopper leg and 
beo-in to tug with all tlieir miglit in opposite directions. Pres- 
ently they take a rest and confer together. They decide that 
somethino- is wrong, they can't make out what. Then they 
sro at it ao-ain, iust as before. Same result. Mutual recrimi- 
nations; follow. Evidently each accuses the other of being an 
obstructionist. They warm up, and the dispute ends in a 
fight. They lock themselves together and chew each other's 
jaws for a while ; then they roll and tumble on the ground 
till one loses a horn or a leg and has to haul off for repairs. 
They make up and go to work again in the same old insane 
way, but the crippled ant is at. a disadvantage ; tug as he may, 
the other one drags off the booty and him at tlie end of it. 
Instead of giving up, he hangs on, and gets his shins bruised 
against every obstruction that comes in the way. By and b}", 
when that grasshopper leg has been dragged all over the same 
old ground once more, it is finally dumped at about the spot 
where it originally lay, the two perspiring ants inspect it 
thoughtfully and decide that dried grasshopper legs are a 
poor sort of property after all, and then each starts off in a 
different direction to see if he can't find an old nail or some- 
thing else that is heavy enough to afford entertainment and 
at the same time valueness enough to make an ant want to 
own it. 

There in the Black Forest, on the mountain side, I saw an 
ant go through with such a performance as this with a dead 
spider of fully ten times his own weight. The spider was 
not quite dead, but too far gone to resist. He had a round 
body the size of a pea. The little ant — observing that I was 
noticing — turned him on his back, sunk his fangs into his 
throat, lifted him into the air and started vigorously off with 
him, stumbling over little pebbles, stepping on the spider's 
legs and tripping himself up, dragging him backwards, shov- 
ing him bodily ahead, dragging him up stones six inches high 
instead of going around them, climbing weeds twenty times 



218 



DECEIT AND IGNORANCE OF THE ANT. 



his own height and jumping from their summits, — and finally 
leaving him in the middle of the road to be confiscated by 
any other fool of an ant that wanted him. I measured the 
ground which this ass traversed, and arrived at the conclu- 
sion that what he had .accomplished inside of twenty minutes 
w^ould constitute some snch job as this, — relatively speaking, 
— for a man ; to-wit : to strap two eight-hundred pound 
horses together, carry them eighteen hundred feet, mainly 




PROSPECTING. 

over (not around) bowlders averaging six feet high, and in 
the course of the journey climb up and jump from the top 
of one precipice like Niagara, and three steeples, each a hun- 
dred and twenty feet high ; and then put the horses down, in 
an exposed place, without anybody to watch them, and go 
off to indulge in some other idiotic miracle for vanitj^'s sake. 
Science has recently discovered that the ant does not lay 
up anj^thing for winter use. This will knock him out of lit- 
erature, to some extent. He does not work, excej^t .when 
people are looking, and only then w^hen the observer has a 
green, naturalistic look, and seems to be taking notes. This 
amounts to deception, and Avill injure him for the Sunday 
schools. He has not judsrment enough to know what is good 
to eat from what isn't. This amounts to ignorance, and will 
impair the world's respect for him. He cannot stroll around 
a stump and find his way home again. This amounts to 



A GEKMAN DISH. 219 

idiotcy, and once the damaging fact is established, thought- 
ful people will cease to look up to liiin, the sentimental will 
cease to fondle him. His vaunted industry is but a vanity 
and of no effect, since he never gets home with anything he 
starts with. This disposes of the last remnant of his reputa- 
tion and wholly destroys his main usefulness as a moral agent, 
since it will make the sluggard hesitate to go to him any more. 
It is strange beyond comprehension, that so manifest a hum- 
bug as the ant has been able to fool so many nations and 
keep it np so many ages without being found out. 

The ant is strong, but we saw another strong thing, where 
we had not suspected the presence of much muscular power 
before. A toadstool — that vegetable which springs to full 
growth in a single night — had torn loose and lifted a matted 
mass of pine needles and dirt of twice its own bulk into the 
air, and supported it there, like a column supporting a shed. 
Ten thousand toadstools, with the right purchase, could lift 
a man, I suppose. Bat what good would it do? 

All our afternoon's progress had been up hill. About five 
or half past we reached the summit, and all of a sudden the 
dense curtain of the forest parted and we looked down into 
a deep and beautiful gorge and out over a wide panorama of 
wooded mountains with their summits shining in the sun 
and their glade-furrowxd sides dimmed with purple shade. 
The gorge under our feet — called Allerheiligen, — afforded 
room in the grassy level at its head for a cosy and delightful 
human nest, shut away from the world and its botherations, 
and consequently the monks of the old times had not failed 
to spy it out ; and here were the brown and comely ruins of 
their church and convent to prove that priests had as fine an 
instinct seven hundred years ago in ferreting out the choicest 
nooks and corners in a land as priests have to-day. 

A big hotel crowds the ruins a little, now, and drives a 
brisk trade with summer tourists. We descended into the 
gorge and had a supper which would have been very satis- 
factory if the trout had not been boiled. The Germans are 



220 



BOILED ORANGES. 



pretty sure to boil a trout or anything else if left to their 
own devices. This is an argument of some value in support 
of the theory that they were the original colonists of the 
wild islands off the coast of Scotland. A schooner laden 
with oranges was wrecked upon one of those islands a few 
years ago, and the gentle savages rendered the captain such 
willing assistance that he gave them as many oranges as they 
wanted. Next day he asked them how they liked them. 
Tiiey shook their heads ana said, — 

"Baked, they were tough; and even boiled, they warn't 
things for a hungry man to hanker after." 

We went down the glen after supper. It is beautiful, — a 
mixture of sylvan loveliness and craggy wildness. A limpid 
torrent goes whistling down the glen, and toward tiic foot of 
it winds through a narrow cleft between lofty precipices and 
hurls itself over a succession of falls. After one passes the 
last of these he has a backward glimpse at the falls which is 
very pleasing, — they rise in a seven-stepped stairway of foamy 
and glittering cascades, and make a picture which is as 
charmino; as it is unusual. 




CHAPTER XXIII. 

WE were satisfied that we could "u-alk to Oppenau in 
one day, now that we were in practice ; so we set out 
next morning after breakfast determined to do it. It was 
nil the way down hili, and we had the loveliest summer 
weather for it. So we set the pedometer and then stretched 
away on an easy, regular stride, down through the cloven 
forest, drawing in the fragrant breath of the morning in 
deep refreshing draughts, and wishing we might never have 
anything to do forever but walk to Oppenau and keep on 
doing it and then doing it over again. 

Now the true charm of pedestrianism does not lie in the 
walking, or in the scenery, but in the talking. The walking 
is good to time the movement of the tongue by, and to keep 
the blood and the brain stirred up and active ; the scenery 
and the woodsy smells are good to bear in upon a man an 
unconscious and unobt?rusive charm and solace to eye and 
soul and sense ; but the supreme pleasure comes from ]the 
talk. It is no matter whether one talks wisdom or nonsense, 
the case is the same, the bulk of the enjoyment lies in the 
wagging of the gladsome jaw and the flapping of the S3anpa- 
thetic ear. 

And what a motley variety of subjects a couple of people 
will casually rake over in the course of a day's tramp ! There 
being no constraint, a change of subject is always in order, 

221 



222 TEAMPING AND TALKING. 

and so a body is not likely to keep pegging at a single topic 
until it grows tiresome. We discussed everything we knew, 
during the first fifteen or twenty minutes, that morning, and 
then branched out into the glad, free, boundless realm of 
the things we were not certain about. 

Harris said that if the best writer in the world once got 
the slovenly habit of doubling up his "have's" he could 
never get rid of it while he lived. That is to say, if a man 
gets the habit of saying " I should have liked to have known 
more about it" instead of saying simply and sensibly, "I 
should have liked to know more about it," that man's disease 
is incurable. Harris said that this sort of lapse is to be 
found in every copy of every newspaper that has ever been 
printed in English, aiid in almost all of our books. He said 
he had observed it in Kirkham's grammar and in Macaula3\ 
Harris believed that milk-teeth are commoner in men's 
mouths than those " doubled-up have's."* 

That changed the subject to dentistry. I said I believed 
the average man dreaded tooth-pulling more than amputa- 
tion, and that he would yell quicker under the former opera- 
tion than he would under the latter. The philosopher Har- 
ris said that the average man would not yell in either case if 
he had an audience. Then he continued : 

"When our brigade first went into camp on the Potomac, 
we used to be brought up standing, occasionally, by an ear- 
splitting howl of anguish. That meant that a soldier was get- 
ting a tooth pulled in a tent. But the surgeons soon changed 
that ; they instituted open-air dentistry. There never was a 
howl afterwards, — that is, from the man who was having the 
tooth pulled. At the daily dental hour there would always 
be about five hundred soldiers gathered together in the neigh- 



* I do not know that there have not been moments in the course of the 
present session when I should have been very glad to have accepted the 
proposal of my noble friend, and to have exchanged parts in some of o«r 
evenings of work. — [From a Speech of the English Chancellor of the 
Exchequer, August, 1C79. 



DENTISTRY IN CAMP. 



223 



borhood of that dental chair waiting to see the performance, 
— and help ; and the moment the surgeon took a grip on the 
candidate's tooth and began to lift, every one of those five 
hundred rascals would clap his hand to his jaw and begin to 
hop around on one leg and howl with all the lungs he had ! 




GENERAL HOWL. 



It was enough to raise yonr hair to hear that variegated and 
enormous unanimous caterwaul burst out ! With so big and 
so derisive an audience as that, a sufferer wouldn't emit a 
sound though you pulled his head off. The surgeons said 
that pretty often a patient was compelled to laugh, in the 
midst of his pangs, but that they had never caught one cry- 
ing out, after the open-air exhibition was instituted." 

Dental surgeons suggested doctors, doctors suggested death, 

death suggested sKeletons, — and so, by a logical process the 

conversation melted out of one of these subjects and into the 

next, until the topic of skeletons raised up Nicodemus Dodge 

14 



224 



NICODEMUS DODGE. 



out of the deep grave in mv memory where he had lain bur- 
ied and forgotten for twenty-five years. When I was a boy 
in a printing oflfice in Missouri, a loose-jointed, long-legged, 
tow-headed, jeans-clad, countrified cub of about sixteen loung- 
ed in one day, and without removing his hands from the 
depths of his trowsers pockets or taking off his faded ruin of 
a slouch hat, whose broken brim hung limp and ragged about 




SEEKING A SITUATIONo 



Ills eyes and ears like a bug-eaten cabbage leaf, stared indif- 
ferently around, then leaned his hip against the editor's table, 
crossed his mighty brogans, aimed at a distant fly from a crev- 
ice in his upper teeth, laid him low, and said with composure, 

" Wharfs the boss ? " 

"I am the boss," said the editor, following this curious bit 
of architecture wonderingly along up to its clock-face with 
his eye. 

"Don't want anybody fur to learn ths business, 't ain't 
likely ? " 

" Well, X don't know. Would you like to learn it? " 



NICODEMUS EXAMINED. 225 

" Pap's so po ' he cain't run me no mo,' so I want to git a 
show somers if I kin, ' tain't no diffunce what, — I ' m strong 
and hearty, and I don't turn my back on no kind of work, 
hard nur soft." 

"Do you think you would like to learn tlie printing busi- 
ness?" 

"Well, I don't re'ly k'yer a durn what I do lenrn, so's I 
git a chance fur to make my way. I'd jist as soon learn 
print'n 's anything," 

" Can yon read ?" 

" Yes,— middlin'." 

" Write ? " 

" Well, I've seed people could lay over me thar." 

"Cipher?" 

" Not good enough to keep store, I don't reckon, but up 
as fur as twelve-times-twelve I ain't no slouch. ' Tother side 
of that is what gits me." 

" Where is your home ? " 

" I'm f m old Shelby." 

"What's your father's religious denomination ?^ 

"Him? 6, he's a blacksmith." 

"No, no, — I don't mean his trade. Whal's.his reZi'^'e'ewiS- 
denomination ? " 

" (9, — I didn't understand you befo'. He's a Freemason." 

"No-no, you dDu't get my meaning yet. Wliat I mean is,, 
does he belong to any church ? " 

" I^'^w you're talkin' ! Couldn't make out what you was a^ 
tryin' to git through yo' head no way. B'long to a church!' 
Why boss he's ben the pizenest kind of a Free-will Babtis'" 
for forty year. They ain't no pizener ones 'n' what he is. 
Mighty good man, pap is. Everybody says that. If they 
said any diffrunt they wouldn't say it whar / wuz,: — not mucb 
they wouldn't." 

"What is your own religion ? " 

"Well, boss, you've kind o' got me, thar, — and yit you' 
hain't got me so mighty much, uuther. I think 't if a feller 



226 NICODEMUS AS AN APPRENTICE. 

lie'ps another feller when he's in trouble, and don't cuss, 
and don't do no mean things, nur noth'n' he ain' no business 
to do, and don't spell the Savior's name with a little g, he 
ain't runnin' no resks, — he's about as saift as if he b'longed 
to a church." 

" But suppose he did spell it with a little g, — what then? " 

" Well, if he done it a-purpose, I reckon he wouldn't stand 
no chance, — he oughtn't to have no chance, anyway, I'm most 
rotten certain 'bout that." 

" What is your name ? " 

"Nicodemus Dodge." 

" I think maybe you'll do, Nicodemus. We'll give you a 
trial, anyway." 

" All right." 

" When would you like to begin ? " 

"]^ow." 

So, within ten minutes after we had first glimpsed this 
nondescript he was one of us, and with his coat off and hard 
at it. 

Beyond that end of our establishment which was furthest 
from the street, was a deserted garden, pathless, and thickly 
grown with the bloomy and villainous " jiinpson " weed and 
its common friend the stately sunflower. In the midst of 
tliis mournful spot was a decayed and aged little "frame" 
house with but one room, one window, and no ceiling, — it 
had been a smoke-house a generation before. Nicodemus was 
given this lonely and ghostly den as a bed chamber. 

The village smarties recognized a treasure in Nicodemus, 
riglit away, — a butt to play jokes on. It was easy to see 
that lie was inconceivably green and confiding. George 
Jones had the glory of perpetrating the first joke on him ; 
he gave him a cigar with a fire-cracker in it and winked to 
the crowd to come; the thing exploded pi-esentl}^ and swept 
away the bulk of Nicodemus's eyebrows and eyelashes. He 
simply said, — 

" I consider them kind of seeg'yars dangersonie," — and 



A BUTT TO PLAY JOKES ON." 



227 



seemed to suspect nothing. The next evenhig Nicodemus 
waylaid George and poured a bucket of ice-water over him. 

One day, while IS'icodtmus was in swimming, Tom McEl- 
roy "tied " his clothes. IS'icodemus made a boniire of Tom's, 
by way of retaliation. 

A tliird joke was played r.pon ISicodemus, a day or two 
later, — he walked up the middle aisle of the village church, 
Sunday night, with a staring hand-bill pinned between his 
shoulders. The joker spent the remaiiider of the night, after 




STANDING GUARD. 

church, in the cellar of a descried house, and Nicodemus sat 
on the cellar door till toward breakfast time to make sure 
that the prisoner remembered that if any noise was made, 
some rough treatment would be the consequence. The cellar 



228 



JIMMY FINN'S SKELETON. 



had two feet of stagnant water in it, and was bottomed with 
six inches of soft mud. 

But I wander from the point. It was the subject of skele- 
tons that brought this boy back to my recollection. Before 
a very long time had elapsed, the village smarties began to 
feel an uncomfortable consciousness of not having made a very 
shining success out of their atteuipts on the simpleton from 
"old Shelby." Experimenters grew scarce and chary. JSJow 
the young doctor came to the rescue. There was delight and 
applause when he proposed to scare Nicodemus to death, 
and explained how he was going to do it. He had a noble 
new skeleton, — the skeleton of the late and only local celeb- 
rity, Jimmy Finn, the village drunkard, — a grisly piece ot 
property which he had bought of JimTnv Finn himself, at 
auction, for fifty dollars, under great competition, when 
Jimni}" lay very sick in the tan-yard a fortnight before his 
death. The fifty dollars had gone promptly for whisky and 
had considerably hurried up the change of ownership in the 
skeleton. The doctor would put Jimmy Finn's skeleton in 
'<^^~:=?-^ Nicodenms's bed ! 

This was done, — about 
half past ten in the even- 
ing. About Nicodemus's 
usual bedtime, — midnight, 
— the village jokers came 
creeping stealthily through 
the jimpson weeds and 
sunflowers toward the lone- 
ly frame den. They 
reached the window and 
peeped in. There sat the 
long-legged pauper, on his 
bed, in a very short shirt, 
and nothing more; he was 
dangling his legs content- 
edly back and forth, and wheezing the music of " Camptown 




RESULT OF A JOKE. 



A RAPID DESCENT. 



229 



Eaces " out of a paper-overlaid comb which he was pressing 
against his mouth ; by him lay a new jewsharp, a new top, a 
solid india-rubber bail, a handlui of painted marbles, live 
pounds of " store" candy, and a well-gnawed slab of ginger- 
bread as big and as thick as a volume of sheet music. He 
had sold the skeleton to a traveling quack for three dollars 
and was enjoying the result ! 

Just as we had finished talking about skeletons and were 
drifting into the subject of fossils, Harris and I heard a 
shout, and glanced up the steep hillside. We saw men and 
women standing away up there looking frightened, and there 
was a bulky object tumbling and floundering down the steep 
slope toward us. We ^^ ^^^^ \\\u,,..sn. ^-r-^ ''iv^ 



got out of the way, and 1^ , V^\ 
when the object landed ^^^-^ -, w^ 
in the road it proved to ^^XXp"^^ 
be a boy. He had trip.*^ ^- 1^ 
ped and fallen, and there Wfev , 
was notlung lor Inm to " " na 

do but trust to luck and take what 
might come. 

When one starts to roll down a 
place like that, there is no stopping 
till the bottom is reached. Think 
<»f people ybrmi^^ on a slant which descending \ farm. 
is so steep that the best you can say of it, — if you want to 
be fastidiously accurate, — is, that it is a little steeper than a 
ladder and not quite so steep as a mansard roof. But that 
is what they do. Some of the little farms on the hillside 
opposite Heidelberg were stood up " edgeways." The boy 
was wonderfully jolted up, and his head was bleeding, from 
cuts which it had got from small stones on the way. 

Harris and I gathered him up and set him on a stone, and 
by that time the men and women had scampered down and 
brought his cap. 

Men, women and children flocked out from neighboring 




230 UNEXPECTED NOTORIETY. 

cottages and joined the crowd ; the pale boy was petted, and 
btared at, and commiserated, and water was brougiit for him 
to drink, aud bathe his bruizes in. And such another clatter 
of tongues ! All who had seen the catastrophe were describ- 
ing it at once, and each trying to talk louder than his neigh- 
bor; and one youth of a superior genius ran a little way up 
the hill, called attention, tripped, fell, rolled down among us, 
and thus triumphantly showed exactly how the thing had 
been done. 

Harris and I were included in all the descriptions : how we 
were coming along ; how Hans Gross shouted ; how we look- 
ed up startled ; how we saw Peter coming like a cannon-shot ; 
how judiciously we got out of the way, and let him come ; 
and with what presence of mind we picked him up and brush- 
ed him off and set him on a rock when the performance was 
over. We were as much heroes as anybody else, except Peter, 
and were so recognized ; we w^ere taken with Peter and the 
populace to Peter's mother's cottage, and there we ate bread 
and cheese, and drank milk and beer with everybody, and 
had a most sociable good time; and when we left we had a 
hand-shake all around, and were receiving and shouting back 
LeV wohVs until a turn in the road separated us from our 
cordial and kindly new friends forever. 

We accomplished our undertaking. At half past 8 in the 
evening we stepped into Oppenau, just eleven hours and a 
half out from Allerheiligen,~14:6 miles. This is the distance 
by pedometer; the guide-book and the Imperial Ordnance 
maps make it only ten and a quarter,-a surprising blunder, 
for tliese two authorities are usually singularly accurate m 
the matter of distances. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

THAT was a tboronghly satisfactory walk, — and the only 
one we were ever to have which was all the way down 
hill. We took the train next morning and returned to 
Baden-Baden through fearfnl fogs of dust. Every seat was 
crowded, too ; for it was Sunday, and consequently every- 
body was taking a " pleasure " excursion. Hot ! the sky was 
an oven, — and a sound one, too, with no cracks in it to let in 
any air. An odd time for a pleasure excui'sion, certainly. 

Sunday is the great day, on the continent. — the free day, 
the happy day. One can break the Sabbath in a hundred 
ways without committing any sin. 

We do not work on Sunday, because the commandment 
forbids it ; the Germans do not work on Sunday, because the 
commandment forbids it. We rest on Sunday, because the 
commandment requires it ; the Germans rest on Sunday, be- 
cause the commandment requires it. But in the definition of 
the word " rest" lies all the difference. With us, its Sunday 
meaning is, stay in the house and keep still; with the Ger- 
mans its Sunday and week-day meanings seems to be the 
sain3, — rest the tired part^ and never mind the other parts of 
the frame ; rest the tii-ed part, and use the means best calcu- 
lated to rest that particular part. Thus: If one's duties have 
kept him in the house all the week, it will rest him to be out 
on Sunday ; if his duties have required him to read weighty 

231 



232 



A GERMAN SABBATH. 




KEEPING SUNDAT- 



aiid serious matter all the week, it will rest him to read light 
matter on Suiidaj ; if his occupation has busied him with 

death and funerals all the 
week, it will rest him to go 
to the theatre Sunday night 
and put in two or three hours 
laughing at a comedy ; if he 
is tired with digging ditches 
or felling trees all the week, 
it will rest him to lie quiet 
in the house on Sunday ; if 
the hand, the arm, the brain, 
the tongue, or any other 
member, is fatigued with in- 
anition, it is not to be rested 
by adding a day's inanition ; 
but if a member is fatigued 
with exertion, inanition is 
the right rest for it. Such is the way in which the Germans 
seem to define tlie word " rest ; " that is to say, they rest a 
member by recreating, recuperating, restoring its forces. 
But our definition is less broad. We all rest alike on Sun- 
day, — by secluding ourselves and keeping still, whether that 
is the surest way to rest the most of us or not. The Germans 
make the actors, the preachers, etc., work on Sunday. We 
encourage the preachers, the editors, the printers, etc., to work 
on Sunday, and imagine that none of the sin of it falls upon 
US ; but I do not know how we are going to get aronnd the 
fact that if it is wrong for the printer to work at his trade on 
Sunday it must be equally wrong for the preacher to work 
at his, since the commandment has made no exception in 
his favor. We buy Monday morning's paper and read it, 
and thus encourage Sunday-printing. But 1 shall never do 
it again. 

The Germans remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy, 
by abstaining from work, as commanded ; we keep it holy by 



AN OBJECT OF SYMPATHY. 233 

abstaining from work, as commanded, and by also abstaining 
from play, which is not commanded. Perhaps we construct- 
ively break the command to rest, because the resting we do 
is in most cases only a name, and not a fact. 

These reasonings have sufficed, in a measure, to mend the 
rent in my conscience which I made by traveling to Baden- 
Baden that Sunday. We arrived in time to furbish up and 
get to the English church before services began. We arrived 
in considerable style, too, for the landlord had ordered the 
first carriage that could be found, since there was no time to 
lose, and our coachman was so splendidly liveried that we 
were probably mistaken fur a brace of stray dukes ; else why 
were we honored with a pew all to ourselves, away up among 
the very elect at the left of the chancel ? That was my first 
thought. In the pew directly in front of us sat an elderly 
lady, plainly and cheaply dressed ; at her side sat a young 
lady with a very sweet face, and she also was quite simply 
dressed ; but around us and about us were clothes and jewels 
which it would do anybody's heart good to worship in. 

I thought it was pretty manifest that the elderly lady was 
embarrassed at finding herself in such a conspicuous place ar- 
rayed in such cheap apparel ; I began to feel sorry for her 
and troubled about her. She tried to seem veiy busy with 
her prayer book and her responses, and unconscious that she 
was out of place, but I said to myself, " She is not succeeding, 
— there is a distressed tremulousness in her voice which be- 
traj^s increasing embarrassment." Presently the Saviors 
name was mentioned, and in her flurry she lost her head com- 
pletely, and rose and curtsied, instead of making a slight nod 
as everybody else did. The sympathetic blood surged to my 
temples and I turned and gave those fine birds what I intend- 
ed to be a beseeching look, but my feelings got the better of 
me and changed it into a look which said, "If any of you 
pets of fortune laugh at this poor soul, you will deserve to be 
flayed for it." Things went from bad to worse, and I shortly 
found myself mentalhT^ taking the unfriended lady under my 



234 



KOYALTY AT CHURCH. 



protection. My iniud was wholly upon her, I forgot all about 
the sermon. Her embarrassment took stronger and stron<;er 




AN OBJECT OF SYMPATHY. 



hold upon her ; she got to snapping the lid of her smelling 
bottle, — it made a lond sharp sound, but in her trouble she 
snapped and snapped away, unconscious of what she was do- 
ing. The last extremity was reached when the collection- 
plate began its rounds ; the moderate people threw in pennies, 
the nobles and the rich contributed silver, but she laid a 
twenty-mark gold piece upon the book fl-est before her with a 
sounding slap! I said to myself, "She has parted with all 
her little hoard to buy the consideration of these unpitying 
people, — it is a sorrowful spectacle." I did not venture to 
look around this time ; but as the service closed, I said to my- 
self, " Let them laugh, it is their opportunity ; but at the door 
of this church they shall see her step into our fine cari-iage 
with us, and our gaudy coachman shall drive her home." 
Then she rose, — and all the congregation stood while she 



PUBLIC GROUNDS CONCEET. 235 

walked down the aisle. She was the Empress of Germany ! 

No, — she had not been so much embarrassed as I had sup- 
posed. My imagination had got started on the wrong scent, 
and that is always hopeless; one is sure, then, to go straight 
on misinterpreting everything, clear through to the end. The 
young lady with her imperial Majesty was a maid of honor, 
— and I had been taking her for one of her boarders, all the 
time. 

This is the only time I have ever had an Empress under 
my personal protection ; and considering my inexperience, I 
wonder I got through with it so well. I should have been a 
little embarrassed myself if I had known earlier M'hatsort of 
a contract I had on my hands. 

We found that the Empress had been in Baden-Baden sev- 
eral days. It is said that she never attends any but the Eng- 
lish form of churcli service. 

I lay abed and read and rested from my journey's fatigues 
the remainder of that Sunda}', but I sent my agent to repre- 
sent me at the afternoon service, for I never allow anything 
to interfere with my habit of attending church twice every 
Sunday. 

There was a vast crowd in the public grounds that night 
to hear the band play the " Fremersberg." This piece tells 
one of the old legends of the region : how a great noble of 
the Middle Ages got lost in the mountains, and wandered 
about with his dogs in a violent storm, until at last the faint 
tones of a monastery bell, calling the monks to a midnight 
service, caught his ear, and he followed the direction the 
sounds came from and was saved. A beautiful air I'an through 
the music, without ceasing ; sometimes loud and strong, some- 
times po soft that it could hardly be distinguished, — but it 
was always there ; it swung grandly along through the shrill 
M'Jiistling of the storm-wind, the rattling patter of the rain, 
and the boom and crash of the thunder ; it wound soft and 
low through the lesser sounds, the distant ones, such as the 
throbbing of the convent bell, I he melodious winding of the 



236 



POWER OF MUSIC. 



hunter's horn, the distressed bayings of his dogs, and the 
solemn chanting of the monks ; it rose again, with a jubilant 
ring, and mingled itself with the country songs and dances of 
the peasants assembled in the convent hall to cheer up the 
rescued huntsman while he ate his supper. The instruments 
imitated all these sounds with a marvelous exactness. More 
than one man started to raise his umbrella when the storm 
burst forth and the sheets of mimic rain came driving by ; it 
was hardly possible to keep from putting your hand to your 
hat when the fierce wind began to rage and shriek ; and it 

fill 




A NON-CLASSICAL STYLE. 

was not possible to refrain from starting when those sudden 
and charmingly real thundercrashes were let loose. 

I suppose the Fremersberg is very low-grade music ; I 



GRADES OF MUSIC. 237 

know, indeed, that it Tnust be low-grade music, because it so 
delighted me, warmed me, moved me, stirred me, uplifted me, 
enraptured me, that I was full of cry all the time, and mad 
with enthusiasm. My soul had never had such a scouring out 
since I was born. The solemn and majestic chanting of the 
monks was not done by instruments, but by men's voices ; and 
it rose and fell, and rose again in that ricli confusion of war- 
ring sounds, and pulsing bells, and the stately swing ot that 
ever-present enchanting air, and it seemed to me that nothing 
but the very lowest of low-grade music could be so divinely 
beautiful. The great crowd which the Fremersberg had call- 
ed out was another evidence that it was low-grade music ; for 
only the few are educated up to a point where high-grade 
music gives pleasure. I have never heard enough classic 
music to be able to enjoy it. I dislike the opera because I 
want to love it and can't. 

I suppose there are two kinds of music, — one kind which 
one feels, just as an oyster might, and another sort which 
requires a higher faculty, a faculty which must be assisted 
and developed by teaching. Yet if base music gives certain 
of us wings, why should we want any otlier? But we do. 
We want it because the higher and better like it. But we 
want it without giving it the necessary time and trouble ; so 
we climb into that upper tier, that dress circle, by a lie : we 
'pretend we like it. 1 know several of that sort of people, — 
and I propose to be one of them myself when I get home 
with my fine European education. 

And then there is painting. What a red rag is to a bull, 
Turner's " Slave Ship " was to me, before I studied Art. Mr. 
Ruskin is educated in art up to a point where that picture 
throws him into as mad an ecstacy of pleasure as it used to 
throw me into one of rage, last year, when I was ignorant. 
His cultivation enables him, — and me, now, — to see water in 
that glaring yellow mud, and natural effects in those lurid ex- 
plosions of mixed smoke and flame, and crimson sunset glo' 
ries ; it reconciles him, — and me, now, — to the floating of 



238 HIRING A COURIER. 

iron cable-chains and other unfloatable things; it reconciles 
us to tishes swimming around on top of the mud, — I mean 
the water. The most of the picture is a manife.--t impossibil- 
ity, — that is to say, a lie ; and only rigid cultivation can ena- 
ble a man to iind truth in a lie. But it enabled Mr. Ruskin 
to do it, and it has enabled me to do it, and I am thankful 
for it. A Boston newspaper reporter went and took a look 
at the Slave Ship floundering about in that fierce conflagration 
of reds and yellows, and said it reminded him of a tortoise- 
shell cat having a tit in a platter of tomatoes. In my then 
uneducated state, that went home to my non-cultivation, and 
I thought here is a man with an unobstructed eye. Mr. Rus- 
kin would have said : This person is an ass. That is what I 
would say, now.* 

However, our business in Baden-JBaden this time, was to 
join our courier. I had thought it best to hire one, as we 
should be in Italy, by and by, and we did not know that lan- 
guage. Neither did he. We found him at the hotel, ready 
to take charge of us. I asked him if he was " all fixed." He 
laid he was. That was very true. He had a trunk, two small 
iatchels, and an umbrella. I was to pay him |55 a month 
and railway fares. On the continent the railway fare on a 
trunk is about the same it is on a man. Couriers do not have 
to pay any board and lodging. This seems a great saving to 
the tourist, — at first. It does not occur to the tourist that 
somebody pays that man's board and lodging. It occurs to 
liim by and by, however, in one of his lucid moments. 



*Montlis after this was written, I happened into the National Gallery in 
London, and soon became so fascinated with the Turner pictures that I could 
hardly get away from the place. 1 went there often, afterward, meaning to 
see the rest of the gallery, hut the Turner spell was too strong ; it could not 
be shaken off. However, the Turners which attracted me most did not re- 
mind me of the Slave Ship. 



CHAPTEK XXV. 

"VTEXT morning we left in the train for Switzerland, and 
1A reached Lucerne about ten o'clock at night. The first 
discovery I made was that the beauty of the lake had not 
been exaggerated. Within a day or two I made another dis- 
covery. This was, tliat the lauded chamois is not a wild goat ; 
that it is not a horned animal ; that it is not shy ; that it does 
not avoid human society ; and that there is no peril in hunting 
it. The chamois is a black or brown creature no bigger than 
a mustard seed ; you do not have to go after it, it comes after 
you ; it arrives in vast herds and skips and scampers all over 
your body, inside your clothes; thus it is not shy, but ex- 
tremely sociable ; it is not afraid of man, on the contrary it 
will attack him ; its bite is not dangerous, but neither is it 
pleasant; its activity has not been overstated, — if you try to 
put your finger on it, it will skip a thousand times its own 
length at one jump, and no eye is sharp enough to see where 
it lights. A great deal of romantic nonsense has been writ- 
ten about the Swiss chamois and the perils of hunting it, 
whereas the truth is that even women and children hunt it, 
and fearlessly; indeed, everybody hunts it; the hunting is 
going on all the time, day and night, in bed and out of it. It 
is poetic foolishness to hunt it with a gun ; very few people 
do that ; there is not one man in a million who can hit it with 
a gun. It is much easier to catch it than it is to shoot it, and 
15 241 



242 



CHAMOIS HUNTING. 



only the experienced cliamois hunter can do either. Another 
common piece of exaggeration is that about the*' scarcity " of 
the chamois. It is the reverse of scarce. Droves of 100,- 
000,000 chamois are not unusual in the Swiss hoteli?. Indeed 
they are so numerous as to be a great pest. Tlie romancers 
always dress up the chamois hunter, in a fanciful and pict- 
uresque costume, whereas the best way to hunt this game is 
to do it without any costume at all. The article of commerce 




HUNTING CHAMOIS — THK TRUE WAT. 



called chamois-skin is another fraud ; nobody could skin a 
chamois, it is too small. The creature is a humbug in every 
way, and everything whicb has been written about it is sen- 
timental exaggeration. It was no pleasure to me to find 
the chamois out, for he had been one of my pet illusions ; all 
my life it had been my dream to see him in his native wilds 
some day, and engage in the adventurous sport of chasing 
him from cliff to cliff. It is no pleasure to me to expose 
him, now, and destroy the reader's delight in liim and respect 
for him, but still it must be done, for when an honest writer 
discovers an imposition it is his simple duty to strip it bare 
and hurl it down from its place of honor, no matter who suf- 
fers by it; any other course would render him unworthy of 
the public confidence. - 




HUNTING CHAMOIS (AS REPORTED ). 



BEAUTIES OF LUCERNE. 245 

Lucerne is a charming place. It begins at the water's edge, 
with a fringe of hotels, and scrambles np and spreads itself 
over two or three sharp hills in a crowded, disorderly, but 
picturesque way, offering to the eye a heaped-np confusion 
of red roofs, quaint gables, dormer winduws, toothpick stee- 
ples, with here and there a bit of ancient embattled wall bend- 
ing itself over the ridges, worm-fashion, and here and there 
an old square tower of heavy masonry. And also here and 
there a town clock with only one hand, — a hand which stretch- 
es straight across the dial and has no joint-in it ; such a clock 
helps out the picture, bat you cannot tell the time of day by 
it. ' Between the curving line of hotels and the lake is a broad 
avenue with lamps and a double rank of low shade trees. The 
lake front is walled witli masonry like a pier, and has a rail- 
ing, to keep people from walking overboard. All day long 
tiie vehicles dash along the avenue, and nurses, children and 
tourists sit in the shade of the trees, or lean on the railing 
and watch the schools of fishes darting about in the clear wa- 
ter or gaze out over the lake at the stately border of snow- 
hooded mountain peaks. Little pleasure-steamers, black with 
people, are coming and going all the time; and everywhere 
one sees young girls and young men paddling about in fanci- 
ful row-boats, or skimming along by the help of sails when 
there is any wind. The front rooms of the hotels have little 
railed balconies, where one may take his private limcheon in 
calm cool comfort and look down upon this busy and pretty 
scene and enjoy it without having to do any of the work con- 
nected with it. 

Most of the people, both male and female, are in walking 
costume, and carry alpenstocks. Evidently it is not consid- 
ered safe to go about in Switzerland, even in town, without 
an alpenstock. If the tourist forgets, and comes down to 
breakfast without his alpenstock, he goes back and gets it, 
and stands it up in the corner. When his touring in Swit- 
zerland is finislied, he does not throw that broomstick away, 
but lugs it home with him, to the far corners of the earth. 



246 



THE ALPENSTOCK. 



altliougli this costs him more trouble and bother than a baby 
or a couj-ier could. You see, the alpenstock is his trophj ; 
his name is burned upon it ; and if he has climbed a hill, or 
jumped a brook, or traversed a brickyard with it, he has the 
names of those places burned upon it, too. Thus it is his 
regimental flag, so to speak, and bears the record of his achieve- 
ments. It is worth three francs wdien he buys it, but a bo- 
nanza could not purchase it after his great deeds have been 
inscribed upon it. There are artisans all about Switzerland 




N^ -Tv.Bto v(tv 



MARKING ALPENSTOCKS. 

whose trade it is to burn these things upo^i the alpenstock of 
the tourist. And observe, a man is respected in Switzerland 
according to his alpenstock. I found I could get no attention 
there, while I carried an unbranded one. However, brand- 
ino; is not expensive, so I soon remedied that. The effect 
upon the next detachment of tourists was very marked. 1 
felt repaid for my trouble 



GUESSING AT NATIONALITIES. 



247 



Ilalf of the summer horde in Switzerland is made up of 
Englisli people ; the other half is made up of many nationali- 
ties, the Grermans leading and the Americans coming next. 
The Americans were not as numerous as 1 had expected they 
would be. 

The 7.30 table d'hote at the great Schweitzerhof furnished 
a mighty array and variety of nationalities, but it offered a 
better opportunity to observe costumes than people, for the 
multitude sat at iujmensely long tables, and therefore the 
faces were mainly seen in perspective ; but the breakfasts 
were served at small i-ound tables, and then if one had the 
fortune to get a table in the midst of the assemblage he could 
have as many faces to study as he could desire. We used to 
try to guess out the nationalities, and generally succeeded 
tolerably well. Sometimes we tried to guess people's names ; 
but that was a failure ; that is a thing which probably requires 
a good deal of practice. We 
presently dropped it and gave 
our efforts to less difficult partic- 
ulars. One morning 1 said, — 

" There is an American party." 

Harris said, — 

" Yes, — but name the State." 

I named one State, Harris 
named another. We agreed up- 
on one thing, however, — that the 
young girl with the party was 
very beautiful, and very tasteful- 
Iv dressed. But we disagreed as 
to her age. I said she wfis eight- 
een, Harris said she wa? t went 7, 
waxed warm and I finally said, with a pretense of being in 
earnest, — 

"Well, there is one way to fettle the matter, — I will go 
and fislc her." 

Harris said, sarcastically, " Certainly, that is the thing to 




IS SHE EIGHTEEN OR TWENTY? 

Tiie dispute between us 



218 AN UNEXPECTED ACQUAINTANCE. 

do. All you need to do is to use the common formula over 
here : go and say, ' I'm an American ! ' Of course she will 
be glad to see you." 

Then he hinted that perhaps there was no great danger of 
my venturing to speak to her. 

I said, "I was only talking, — I didn't intend to approach 
lier, but I see that you do not know what an intrepid person 
J am. 1 am not afraid of any woman that walks. I will go 
and speak to this young girl." 

The thing I had in my mind was not difficult. I meant to 
address her in the most respectful way and ask her to pardon 
me if her strong resemblance to a former acquaintance of 
mine was deceiving me; and when she should reply that the 
name I mentioned was not the name she bore, I meant to beg 
pardon again, most respectfully, and retire. There would be 
no harm done. I walked to her table, bowed to the gentle- 
man, then turned to her and was about to begin my little 
speech when she exclaimed, — 

" I Tcnew 1 wasn't mistaken, — 1 told John it was 30U ! John 
said it probably wasn't, but I knew I was right. I said you 
would recognize me presently and come over; and I'm glad 
you did, for I shouldn't have felt much flattered if you had 
gone out of this room without recognizing me. Sit down, sit 
(^lown, — how odd it is, — you are the last person I was ever 
expecting to see again." 

This was a stupefying surprise. It took my wits clear 
away, for an instant. However, we shook hands cordially all 
around, and I sat down. But truly this was the tightest place 
I ever was in. I seemed to vaguely remember the girl's face, 
now, but I had no idea where I had seen it before, or wdiat 
name belonged with it. I immediately tried to get up a di- 
version about Swiss scenery, to keep her from launching into 
topics that might betray that I did not know her, bnt it Mas 
of no use, she went right along upon matters which interested 
her more : 

" O dear, what a night that was, when the sea washed the 
forward boats away, — do you remember it ? " > 



GETTING MIXED UP. 249 

" O, donH I ! " said I, — but I didn't. I wished the sea had 
washed the rudder and the smoke-stack and the captain away, 
— then I could have located this questioner. 

" And don't jou remember how frightened poor Mary was, 
and how she cried ? " 

" Indeed I do ! " said T. " Dear me, how it all comes back ! " 

I fervently wished it would come back, — but my memory 




I KNEW I WASN T MISTAKEN. 



was a blank. The wise way would have been to frankly own 
up ; but I could not brino; myself to do that, after the young 
girl had praised me so for recognizing her; so I went on, 
deeper and deeper into the mire, hoping for a chance clue but 
never getting one. The Unrecognizable continued, with 
vivacity, — 

" Do you know, George married Mary, after all ? " 

"Why, no! Did he f" 

"Indeed he did. He said he did not believe she was half 



250 GROWING SULTRY. 

as much to blame as her father was, and I thought he was 
right. Didn't you ? " 

" Of course he was. It was a perfectly plain case. I 
always said so." 

"Why no you didn't! — at least that summer," 

" Oh, no, not that summer. No, you are perfectly right 
about that. It M'-as the following winter that I said it.'' 

" Well, as it turned out, Mary was not in the least to blame. 
— it was all her father's fault, — at least his and old Darley's." 

It was necessary to say something, — so 1 said, — 

" I always regarded Darley as a troublesome old thing." 

" So lie was, but then they always had a great affection for 
him, although he had so many eccentricities. You remem- 
ber that when the weather was the least cold, he would try 
to come..into the house." 

I was rather afraid to proceed. Evidently Darley was not 
a man, — he must be some other kind of animal, — possibly a 
dog, maybe an elephant. However, tails are common to all 
animals, so I ventured to say, — 

" And what a tail he had ! " 

" One ! He had a thousand ! " 

This was bewildering. I did not quite know what to say, 
so I only said, — 

" Yes, he was rather well fixed in the matter of tails." 

*' For a negro, and a crazy one at that, I should say he 
was," said she. 

It was getting pretty sultry for me. I said to myself, " Is 
it possible she is going to stop there, and wait for me to 
speak? If she does, the conversation is blocked. A negro 
with a thousand tails is a topic which a person cannot talk 
upon fluently and instructively without more or less prepara- 
tion. As to diving rashly into such a vast subject, — " 

But here, to my gratitude, she interrupted my thought by 
saying,— 

"Yes, when it came to tales of his crazy woes, there waa 
simply no end to them if anybody would listen. His own 



FOLLOWING A BLIND TRAIL. 251 

quarters were comfortable enough, but when the weather was 
cold, the family were sure to have his companj'^, — nothing 
could keep him out of the house. But they always bore it 
kindly because he had saved Tum's life, years before. You 
remember Tom ? " 

'' O, perfectly. Fine fellow he was, too." 

" Yes he was. And what a pretty little thing his child 
was ! " 

" You may well say that. I never saw a prettier child." 

" I used to delight to pet it and dandle it and play with 
it." . 

"So did I." 

" You named it. What was that name? I can't call it to 
mind." 

It appeared to me that the ice was getting pretty thin, here. 
1 would have given something to know what the child's sex 
was. However, I had the good luck to think of a name that 
would fit either sex, — so 1 brought it out, — 

" I named it Frances." 

"From a relative, I suppose? But you named the one 
that died, too, — one that I never saw. What did you call 
that one ? " 

I was out of neutral names, but as the child was dead and 
she had never seen it, I thought I might risk a name for it 
and trust to luck. Therefore I said, — 

" I called that one Thomas Henry." 

She said, nriusingly, — 

" That is very singular very singular." 

I sat still and let the cold sweat run down. I w^as in a 
good deal of trouble, but I believed I could worry through 
if she wouldn't ask me to name any more children. I won- 
dered where the lightning was going to strike next. She was 
still ruminating over that last child's title, but presently she 
said, — 

" I have always been sorrj^" you were away at the time, — 
I would have had you name my child." 



252 A. HAPPY HALF HOUR. 

" Your child ! Are jou married?" 

" I have been married thirteen years." 

" Christened, you mean." 

" No, married. The youth by your side is my son." 

" It seems incredible, — even impossible. I do not mean 
any harm by it, but would you mind telling me if you are 
any over eighteen ? — that is to say, will you tell me how old 
you are ?" 

"I was just nineteen the day of the storm we were talking 
about. That was my birth-day." 

That did not help matters much, as I did not know the date 
of the storm. 1 tried to think of some non-committal thing 
to say, to keep np my end of the talk and render my poverty 
in the matter of reminiscences as little noticeable as possible, 
but I seemed to be about out of non-committal things. I 
was about to say, " You haven't changed a bit since then," — 
but that was risky. I thought of saying " You have improved 
ever so much since then," — but that wouldn't answer, of 
course. I was about to try a sliy at the weather, for a saving 
change, when the girl slipped in ahead of me and said, — 

" How I have enjoyed this talk over those happy old times, 
— haven't you ? " 

" 1 never have spent such a half hour in all my life before ! " 
said I, with emotion ; and I could have added, with a near 
approach to truth, " and I would rather be scalped than spend 
another one like it," I was holily grateful to be through with 
the ordeal, and was about to make m^ good-byes and get out, 
when the girl said, — 

" But there is one thing that is ever so puzzling to me." 

"Why what is that?" 

" That dead child's name. What did you say it was ?" 

Here was another balmy place to be in : I had forgotten 
the child's name ; 1 hadn't imagined it would be needed again. 
However, I had to pretend to know, anyway, so I said, — 

" Joseph William." 

The youth at my side corrected me, and said, — 



RECOGNITION. 253 

" No,— Thoirias Henry." 

1 thanked him, — in words, — and said, with trepidation, — 

" O yes, — 1 was thinking of another child that 1 named, — 
I have named a great many, and I get them confused, — this 
one was named Henry Thompson, — " 

"Thomas Henry," calmly interposed the boy. 

I thanked Lim again, — strictly in words, — and stammered 
out, — 

" Thomas Henry, — yes, Thomas Henry was the poor child's 
name. I named him for Thomas, — er, — Thomas Carlyle, the 
great author, you know, — and Henry — er, — er, — Henry the 
Eighth. The parents wero very grateful to have a child 
named Thomas Henry." 

" That makes it more singular than ever," murmured mj 
beautiful friend. 

"Does it? Why?" 

"Because when the parents speak of that child now, they 
always call it Susan Amelia." 

That spiked my gun, I could not say anything. I was 
entirely out of verbal obliquities ; to go further would be to 
lie, and that I would not do; so I simply sat still and suf- 
fered, — sat mutely and resignedly there, and sizzled, — for I 
was being slowly fried to death in my own blushes. Pres- 
ently the enemy laughed a happy laugh and said, — 

" I have enjoyed this talk over old times, but you have not. 
I saw very soon that j'ou were only pretending to know me, 
and so as I had wasted a compliment on you in tlie beginning, 
I made up my mind to punish you. And I have succeeded 
pretty well. I was glad to see that you knew George and 
Tom and Darley, for I had never heard of them before and 
therefore could not be sure that you had ; and I was glad to 
learn the names of those imaginary children, too. One can 
get quite a fund of information out of you if one goes at it 
cleverly. Mary and the storm, and the sweeping away of the 
forward boats, were facts — all the rest was fiction. Mary was 
my sister ; her full name was Mary . Now do you re- 
member me?'' 



254 CONFESSED DEFEAT. 

" Yes," I said, " I do remember you now ; and you are as 
hard-hearted as you were thirteen years ago in tliat ship, else 
you wouldn't have punished me so. You haven't changed 
your nature nor your person, in any way at all ; you look just 
as young as you did then, you are just as beautiful as you 
were theu, and you have transmitted a deal of your comeli- 
ness to this line boy. There, — if that speech moves you any, 
let's fly the flag of truce, with the understanding that I am 
conquered and confess it." 

All of which was agreed to and accomplished, on the spot. 
When I went back to Harris, I said, — 

" Now you see what a person with talent and address can 
do." 

"Excuse me, I see wliat a person of colossal ignorance and 
simplicity can do. The idea of your going and intruding on 
a party of strangers, that way, and talking for half an hour ; 
why I never heard of a man in his right mind doing sucli a 
thing before. What did you say to them ? " 

" I never said any harm. I merely asked the girl what her 
name was." 

" I don't doubt it. Upon my word I don't. I think you 
were capable of it. It was stupid in me to let you go over 
there and make such an exhibition of yourself. But you know 
I couldn't really believe you would do such an inexcusable 
thing. What will those people think of us? But how did 
you say it ? — I mean the manner of it. I hope you were not 
abrupt." 

" No, I was careful about that. I said ' My friend and I 
would like to know whnt your name is, if you don't mind.' " 

" No, that was not abrupt. There is a polish about it that 
does you infinite credit. Aiid I am glad you put me in ; that 
was a delicate attention which I appreciate at its full value. 
What did she do ? " 

"She didn't do anything in particular. She told me her 
name." 

" Simply told you her name. Do you mean to say she did 
not show any surprise?" 



MY VERSION OF THE STORY. 



255 



" Well, now I come to think, she did show something; may 
be it was surprise; I hadn't thought of that, — I took it for 
gratification.''' 

" O, undoubtedly you were right ; it must have been grati- 
fication ; it could not be otherwise than gratifying to be as- 
saulted by a stranger with such a question as that. Then 
what did you do? " 

" I oflfered my liand and the party gave me a shake." 

" I saw it ! I did not believe my own eyes, at the time. 
Did the gentleman say anything about cutting your throat ? " 

" No, they all seemed glad to see me, as far as 1 could judge." 

"And do you know, I believe they were. I think they 
said to themselves, ' Doubtless this curiosity has got away 
from his keeper — let us amuse ourselves with him.' There 
is no other way of 
accounting for their ^^' 
facile docility. You 
sat down. Did they 
ask yon to sit 
down?" 

"No, they did 
not ask me, but I 
supposed they did 
not think of it." 

" Yon have an un- 
erring instinct. What else did you do ? What did you talk 
about ? " 

" Well, I asked the girl how old she was ? " 

" C^wdoubtedly. Your delicacy is beyond praise. Go on, 
go on, — don't mind m}'^ apparent misery, — I always look so 
when I am steeped in a profound and reverent joy. Go on, 
— she told you her age ? " 

" Yes, she told me her age, and all about her mother, and 
her grandmother, and her other relations, and all about her- 
self." 

"Did she volunteer these statistics? '* 




HARKIS ASTONISHED. 



256 HARRIS ASTONISHED. 

" ISo, not exactly that. 1 asked the questions and she an- 
swered them." 

" This is divine. Go on, — it is not possible that you fon 
got to inquire into her politics ? " 

" No, 1 thought of that. She is a democrat, her husband 
is a republican, and both of them are Baptists." 

" Her husband ? Is that child married ? " 

" She is not a child. She is married, and that is her hus- 
band who is there M'ith her." 

" Has she any children ? " 

" Yes, — seven and a half." 

" That is impossible." 

" No, she has them. She told me lierself." 

"Well, but seven and a half^. How do you make out the 
half ? Where does the half come in 'i " 

'' That is a child which she had by another husband, — not 
this one but another one, — so it is a step-child, and they do 
not count it full measure." 

" Another husband ? Has she had another husband ? " 

" Yes, four. This one is number four." 

"I do not believe a word of it. It is impossible, upon its 
face. Is that boy there her brother ? " 

" No, that is her son. He is her youngest. He is not as 
old as he looks ; he is only eleven and a half." 

"These things are all manifestly impossible. This is a 
wretched business. It is a plain case : they simply took your 
measure, and concluded to fill you up. They seem to have 
succeeded. I am glad I am not in the mess ; they may at 
least be charitable enough to think there ain't a pair of us. 
Are they going to stay here long?" 

"No, they leave before noon." 

" There is one man who is deeply grateful for that. IIow 
did you find out? You asked, I suppose?" 

" No, along at first I inquired into their plans, in a general 
way, and they said they were going to be here a week, and 
make trips round about ; but toward the end of the interview. 



MY REVENGE. 257 

when I said you and I would tour around with them with 
pleasure, and offered to bring you over and introduce you, 
tliey hesitated a little, and asked if you were from the same 
establishment that I was. I said you were, and then they 
said they had changed their mind and considered it necessary 
to start at once and visit a sick relative in Siberia." 

" Ah me, you struck the summit ! You struck the loftiest 
altitude of stupidity that human effort has ever reached. You 
shall have a monument of jackass's skulls as high as the Stras- 
burg spire if you die before I do. They wanted to know if 
I was from the same ' establishment ' that you hail from, did 
they? What did they mean by 'establishment?'" 

" T don't know ; it never occurred to me to ask." 

" Well / know. They meant an asylum — an idiot asylum, 
do 3'ou understand ? So they do think there's a pair of us, af- 
ter all. Now what do you think of yourself? " 

"Well I don't know. I didn't know I was doing any 
harm ; I didn't mean to do any harm. They were very nice 
people, and they seemed to like me." 

Harris made some rude remarks and left for his bedroom, 
— to break some furniture, he said. He was a singularly 
irascible man ; any little thing would disturb his temper. 

I had been well scorched by the young woman, but no mat- 
ter, I took it out of Harris. One should always " get even " 
iu some way, else the sore place will go on hurting. 




CHAPTER XXVL 

THE Hufkirsclie is celebrated for its organ concerts. All 
summer long the tourists flock to that church about six 
o'clock in the evening, and pay their franc, and listen to the 
noise. They don't stay to hear all of it, but get up and tramp 
out over the sounding stone floor, meeting late comers who 
tramp in in a sounding and vigorous way. This tramping 
back and forth is kept up nearly all the time, and is accented 
by the continuous slamming of the door, and the coughing 
and barking and sneezing of the crowd. Meantime the big 
organ is booming and crashing and thundering away, doing 
its best to prove that it is the biggest and loudest organ in 
Europe, and that a tight little box of a church is the most fa 
vorable place to average and appreciate its powers in. It 
is true, there were some soft and merciful passages occasion- 
ally, but the tramp-tramp ot the tourists only allowed one to 
get fitful glimpses of them, so to speak. Then right away 
the organist would let go another avalanche 

The commerce of Lucerne consists mainly in gimcrackery 
of the souvenir sort ; the shops are packed with Alpine crys- 
tals, photographs of scenery, and wooden and ivory carvings. 
I will not conceal the fact that miniature figures of the Lion 
of Lucerne are to be had in them. Millions of them. But 
they are libels upon him, every one of them. There is a sub- 
tle something about the majestic pathos of the original which 

258 



COMMERCE OF LUCERNE. 



259 



the copyist cannot get. Even the sun fails to get it; both 
the photographer and the carver give you a dying lion, and 
that is all. The shape is right, the attitude is right, the pro- 
portions are right, but that indescribable something which 
makes the Lion of Lucerne the most mournful and moving 
piece of stone in the world, is wanting. 

The Lion lies in his lair in the perpendicular face of a low 
clilf, — for he is carved from the living ruck of the clitf. His 




LION OF LUCERNE. 



size is colossal, his attitude is noble. His head is bowed, the- 
broken spear is sticking in his shoulder, his protecting paw 
rests upon the lilies of France. Vines hang down the cliff 
and wave in the wind, and a clear stream trickles from above 
and empties into a pond at the base, and in the smooth sur- 
face of the pond the lion is mirrored, among the water lilies. 
Around about are green trees and grass. The place is a 
sheltered, reposeful, woodland nook, remote from noise and 
^tir and confusion, — and all this is fitting, for lions do die in 



2G0 iHaRITY TOWAl.DS MAKIVRS. 

such places, and not on granite pedestals in public squares 
fenced with fancy iron railings. The Lion (>f Lucerne would 
be inipi-es?ive anywhere, but nowhere so inipi-cssive as M'here 
he is. 

Martyrdom is the luckiest fate that can befall some people. 
Louis XVI did not die in his bed, consequently history is 
very gentle with him; she is charitable towai'd his failings, 
and she finds in him high virtues which are not usually con- 
sidered to be virtues when they are lodged in kings. She 
makes him out to be a person wnth a meek and modest spirit 
the heart of a female saint, and a wrong head. None of thete 
qualities are kingly but the last. Taken together they make 
a character which would have fared harshly at the hands of 
history if its owner had had the ill luck to miss martyrdom. 
With the best intentions to do the right thing, he always 
munaged to do the wrong one. Moreovei", nothing could get 
tlic female saint out of him. lie knew, well enough, that in 
national emergencies he must not consider how he ought to 
act, as a man, but how he ought to act as a king ; so he hon- 
e;-tly tried to sink the man and be the king, — but it M^as a 
faihire, he only succeeded in being the female saint. He "was 
not instant in season, but out of season. He could not be 
])ersuaded to do a thing while it could do any good, — he was 
iron, he was adamant in his stubbornness then,— but as soon 
as the thing had reached a point where it would be positively 
liarmful to do it, do it he would, and nothing could stop him. 
He did not do it because it would be harmful, but because he 
lioped it was not yet too late to achieve by it the good which 
it would have done if applied earlier. His comprehension 
was always a train or two behind-hand. If a national toe 
required amputating, he could not see that it needed anything 
!nore than poulticing; when others saw that the mortifica- 
tion had reached the knee, he first yjerceived that the toe 
needed cutting off, — so he cut it off; and he severed the leg 
at the knee when others saw that the disease had reached the 
thigh. He was good, and honest, and well meaning, in the 



A BIT OF HISTORY. 261 

matter of chasing national diseases, but he never could over- 
take one. As a private man, be would have been lovable; 
but viewed as a king, he was strictly contemptible. 

His was a most unroyal career, but the most pitiable spec- 
tacle in it, was his sentimental treachery to his Swiss guard 
on that memorable 10th of August, when, he allowed those 
iieroes to be massacred in his cause, and forbade them to shed 
the '' sacred French blood " purporting to be flowing in tbe 
veins of the red-capped mob ot miscreants that was raging 
around the palace. He meant to be kingly, but he was only 
tbe female saint once more. Some of his biographers think 
that upon this occasion the spirit uf Saint Louis had descend- 
ed upon him. It must have found pretty cramped quarters. 
It Napoleon the First had rtood In the shoes of Louis XVI 
that day, instead of being merely a casual and unknown 
looker-on, there would be no Lion of Lucerne, now, but 
there would he a well stocked Communist graveyard in Paris 
which would answer just as well to remember the 10th of 
August by. 

Martyrdom made a saint of Marie Queen of Scots three 
hundred years ago, and she has hardly lost all of her saint- 
ship yet. Martyrdom made a saint of the trivial and foolish 
Marie Antoinette, and her biograpiiers still keep her fragrant 
with the odor of sanctity to this day, while unconsciously 
proving upon almost every page they write that the only 
calamitous instinct which her husband lacked, she supplied, 
— the instinct to root out and get rid of an honest, able, and 
loyal official, wherever she found him. The hideous but be- 
neficent French Revolution would have been deferred, or 
would have fallen short of completeness, or even might not 
have happened at all, if Marie Antoinette had made the un- 
wise mistake of not being born. The world owes a great deal 
to the French Revolution, and consequently to its two chief 
promoters, Louis the Poor in Spirit and his queen. 

We did not buy any wooden images of the Lion, nor any 
ivory or ebony or marble or chalk or sugar or chocolate ones, 



262 



CUCKOO CLOCKS. 



or even any photographic slanders of him. The truth is, these 
copies were so common, so univei'sal, in tlie shops and every- 
where, that they presently became as intolerable to the wear- 
ied eye as the latest popular melody usually becomes to the 
harassed ear. In Lucerne, too, the wood carvings of other 
sorts, which had been so pleasant to look upon when one saw 
them occasionally at home, soon began to fatigue us. We 
grew very tired of seeing wooden quails and chickens pick- 
ing and strutting around clock-faces, and still more tired of 
seeing wooden images of the alleged chamois skipping about 
wooden rocks, or lying upon them in family groups, or peer- 
ing alertly up from behind them. The first day, I would 
have bought a hundred and fifty of these clocks if I had had 




HE LIKED CLOCKS. 

the money, — and I did buy three, — but on the third day the 
disease had run its course, I had convalesced, and was in the 
market once more, — trying to sell. However, I had no luck ; 
which was just as well, for the things will be pretty enough, 
no doubt, when I get them home. 

For years my pet aversion had been the cuckoo clock ; now 
her?. I was, at last, right in the creature's home ; so wherever 
I went that distressing " y^oo'hoo! Aoo'hoo ! A<?6>'hoo ! " was 
always in my ears. For a nervous man, this was a fine state of 



A SATISFACTORY REVENGE. 263 

things. Some sounds are hatef uller than others, But no sound 
is quite so inane, and silly, and aggravating as tlie "/^oo'hoo" 
of a cuckoo clock, I think. I bought one, and am carrying 
it home to a certain person; fori have always said that if 
the opportunity ever happened, I would do that man an ill 
turn. What I meant, was, that I would break one of his legs, 
or something of that sort; but in Lucerne I instantly saw 
that I could impair his mind. That w^ould be more lasting, 
and more satisfactoiy eveiy way. So I bought the cuckoo 
clock ; and if I ever get home with it, he is " my meat," as 
as they say in the mines. I thought of another candidate, — 
a book reviewer whom I could name if I wanted to, — but 
after thinking it over, I didn't buy him a clock. I couldn't 
injure his mind. 

We visited the two long, covered wooden bridges which 
span the green and brilliant Reuss just below where it goes 
plunging and hurrahing out of the lake. These rambling, 
swaybacked tunnels are very attractive things, with their al- 
coved outlooks upon the lovely and inspiriting water. They 
contain two or three hundred queer old pictures, by old Swiss 
masters, — old boss sign painters, who flourished before the 
decadence of art. 

The lake is alive with fishes, plainly visible to the eye, for 
the water is ver}^ clear. The parapets in front of the hotels 
were usually fringed with flshers of all ages. One day I 
thought I would stop and see a flsh caught. The result 
irought back to my mind, very forcibly, a circumstance which 
1 had not thought of before for twelve years. This one; 

THE MA.N WHO PUT UP AT GADSBy's. 

When my odd friend Riley and I were newspaper corre- 
spondents in Wasliington, in the winter of '67, we were com- 
ing down Pennsylvania Avenue one night, near midnight, 
in a driving storm of snow, w^hen the flash of a street lamp 
fell upon a man who was eagerly tearing along in the oppo- 
site direction. This man instantly stopped, and exclaimed, 

" This is lucky ! You are Mr. Riley, ain't you? " 



264 A FORGOTTEN STORVT. 

Riley was the most self-possessed and solemnly deliberate 
person in the republic. He stopped, looked his man over 
from head to foot, and finally said, — 

" 1 am Mr. Riley. Did you happen to be looking for me ? " 

"That's just what I was doing," said the man, joyouslj-, 
"and it's the biggest luck in the woi'ld that I've found you. 
My name is Lykins. I'm one of the teachers of tlie high 
school — San Francisco. As soon as I Iteard the San Fran- 
cisco post-mastership was vacant, I made up mj' mind to get 
it,— and here I ani." 

" Yes," said Riley, slowly, " as you have remarked, 

Mr. Lykins here you are. And have you got it T' 

" Well, not exactly got it, but the next thing to it. I've 
brought a petition, signed by the Superintendent of Public 
Instruction, and all the teachers, and by more than two hun- 
dred other people. Nt)w I want you, if you'll be so good, 
to go around with me to the Pacific delegation, for I want to 
rush this thing through and get along iiome."' 

"If the matter is so premising, you will prefer that we visit 
the delegation to-night," said Riley, in a voice wJiich had 
nothing mocking in it, — to an unaccustomed ear. 

" O, to night, by all means! I haven't got any time to 
fool around. I want their promise before I go to bed, — 1 
ain't the talking kind, I'm the doing kind ! " 

"Yes you've come to the right place for that. 

When did you arrive ? " 

" Just an hour ago." 

" When are you intending to leave?" 

" For New York to-morrow evening, — for San Francisco 
next morning." 

" Just so What are you going to do to-morrow ? " 

'''■Do! Why I've got to go to the President with the peti- 
tion and the delegation, and get the appointment, haven't 

ir' 

'' Yes very true that is correct. And then 

what ? » 



WANTED TO BE POSTMASTER. 



265 



" Executive session of the Senate at 2 p. m., — got to get 
tlie appuintuieut contirmeti, — I reckon you'Jl grant that V 

" Yes yes," baid Riley, meditatively, "you are right 

again. Then yuii take the train for New York in the even- 
ing, and the steamer fur San Francisco next morning? " 

"* That's it, — that's the way I map it out?" 

Riley considered a while, and then said, — 

"■ You couldn't stay a day well, say two days 

longei- ? " 

"Bless your soul, no! It's not my style. I ain't a man 
to go fooling around, — I'm a man that does things, 1 tell you. ' 

The sLorni was raging, the thick snow blowing in gusts. 
Riley stood silent, apparently deep in a reverie, during a 
minute or more, then he looked up and said, — 

" Have you ever heard about that man who put up at Gads 
by's, once ? But I see 



yon haven't." 

He backed Mr. Lykins 
against an iron fence, 
buttonholed liini, fastened 
him with his eye, like the 
ancient mariner, and pro- 
ceeded to unfold his narra- 
tive as placidly and peace- 
fully as if we were all 
stretched comfortably in 
a blossoniy summer mead- 
ow instead of being per- 
secuted by a wintry mid- 
night tempest: 

" I will tell you about 
that nian. It was in Jack- 
^son's time. Gadpliv's M-as 
the principal hotel, then. " i will tell tou." 

Well, this man arrived from Tennessee about nine o'clock, 
one morning, with a black coachman and a splendid four-' 




2G8 



ARRIVAL OF A TENNESSEAN. 



liorso carriage and an elegant dog, wliicli lie was evidently 
fond and proud of; he drove up before Gadsby's and the clerk 
and the landlord and everybody rushed out to take charge of 
him, but he said, ' Never mind' and jumped out and told the 
coachman to wait, —said he hadn't time to take anything to 
eat, he only had a little claim against the government to col- 
lect, would run across the way, to the Treasury, and fetch 




couldn't wait. 
the moiiey, and then get right along back to Tennessee, for 
he was in considerable of a hurry. 

"Well, about eleven o'clock that night he came back and 
ordered a bed and told them to put the horses up, said he 
would collect the claim in the morning. This was in Janu- 
ary, you understand, — January 1834, — the 3d of January, — 
Wednesday. 

" Well, on the 5th of February, he sold the fine carriage, 




didn't cake for stvle. 
and bought a cheap second-hand one, — said it would answer 
just as well to take the money home in, and he didn't care 
for style. 

" On the 11th of August he sold a pair of the fine horses. 



CONCLUDED TO STAY A WHILE. 



2G7 



— said he'd often thought a pair was better tliaii four, to go 
over the roug'h mountain roads with where a body had to be 
careful about his driving, — and there wasn't so much of his 




A PAIR BbTT. R THAN FOUR. 

claim but he could hig the money home with a pair easy 
enough. 

" On the 13th of December he sold another horse, — said two 
warn't necessary to drag that old light vehicle with, — in fact 
one could snatch it along faster than was absolutely necessary, 




TWO wasn't necessary. 
now that it was good tsolid winter weather and the roads in 
splendid condition. 

"On the seventeenth of Februar}", 1835, he sold the old 
oarriaL'^e and bought a cheap second-hand buggy, — said a 
buggy was just the trick to skim along mushy, slushy early 




JUST THE TRTCK. 

spring roads with, and he had always wanted to try a buggy 
on those mountain roads, anyway. 

"On the 1st of August he sold the buggy and bought the 



2G8 



GETTlNa SENSIBLE. 



lemains of an old sulky, — said be just wanted to see tLose 
green Tennesseans stare and gawk when they saw him uonie 



7?^^ 




GOING TO MAKE THEM STARE. 



;i-ripping along in a sulky, — didn't believe tbey'd ever beard 
(if a sulky in tbeir lives. 

" Well, on the 29th of August be sold his colored coacb- 
inan, — said he didn't need a coachman for a sulky, — wouldn't 
be room enough for two in it anyway, — and besides it wasn't 




NOT THROWN AWAY. 



every day tbat Providence sent a man a fool who was will- 
ing to pay nine hundred dollars for such a tbird-rate negro 
as that, — ^^been wanting to get rid of tbe creature for years, 
but didn't like to throio him away. 

"Eighteen months later, — that is to say, on tbe 15th of 
February, 1837, — he sold the sulky and bought a saddle, — 




WHAT THE DOCTOR RECOMMENDED. 

said horse-back riding was what the doctor had always rec- 
ommended him to take, and dog'd if he wanted to risk his 
neck going over those mountain roMds on wheels in the dead 
of winter, not if he knew himself. 



SOLD OUT 



2r/.) 



"On the 9th of April he sold the saddle, — said he wasn't; 
going to risk his life with any perishable saddle-girth that ever 




WANTED TO FEEL SAFE. 

was made, over a rainy, miry April road, while he could ride 
bareback and know and feel he was safe, — always had de- 
spised to ride on a saddle, anyway. 

"On the 24th of April he sold his horse,— said 'I'm just 
57 to-day, hale and hearty,— it would be a pretty howdy-do 
for me to be wasting such a trip as that and such weather as 




PREFERRED TO TRAMP ON FOOT. 

this, on a horse, when there ain't anything in the M'orld so 
splendid as a tramp on foot through the fresh spring woods 
and over the cheery mountains, to a man that is a man. — ■ 
and 1 can make my dog carry my claim in a little bundle 
anyway, when it's collected. So to-morrow I'll be up bright 
and early, make my little old collection, and mosey off to 
Tennessee, on my own hind legs, with a rousing Good-bye, 
to Gadsby's.' 

" On the 22d of June he sold his dog, — said ' Dern a dog, 
anyway, where you're just starting off on a rattling bully 
pleasure-tramp through the summer woods and hills,-- -per- 
fect nuisance, — chases the squirrels, barks at everything, goes 
a-capering and splattering around in the fords, — man can't 



270 APPLICATION OP THE STORY. 

get any chance to reflect and enjoy nature, — and I'd a blamed 
si«;ht ruther carry the claim myself, it's a mighty sight safer ; 




DERN A DOG, ANYWAY. 

a Jog's inight}^ uncertain in atinancial way, — always noticed 
it, — well, good-hye, boys, — last call, — I'm off for Tennessee 
witii a good leg and a gay heart, early in the morning!" 

There was a pause and a silence, — except the noise ot^ 
the wind and the pelting snow. Mr. Lykins said, impa 
tiently, — 

"Well?" 

Riley said, — 

" Well, — that was thirty years ago." 

" Very well, very well, — what of it ? ''' 

"I'm great friends with that old patriarch. He comes 
every evening to tell me good bye. I saw him an hour ago, 
— he's off for Tennessee early to morrow morning, — as usnal ; 
said he calculated to get his claim through and be off before 
night-owls like me have turned out of bed. The tears were 
in his eyes, he was so glad he was going to see his old Ten- 
nessee and his friends once more." 

Another silent pause. The stranger broke it, — 

"Is that all?" 

" That is all." 

" Well, for the time of niorht, and the hind of night, it 
seems to me the story was full long enough. But what's it 
all for ? " 

" O, nothing in particular." 

"Well, where's the point of it ? ", 

" O, there isn't any particular point to it. Only, if you 
are not in too much of a hurry to rush off to San Francisco 



FISHING IN THE LAKE. 



271 



with that post-office appointment, Mr. Lykins, I'd advise jou 
to '•put up at Gadshy's'' for a spell, and take it easj. Good- 
bye. Ood bless you ! " 

So saying, Riley blandly turned on liis heel and left the 
astonished school teacher standing there, a musing and mo- 
tionless snow image shining in the broad glow of the street 
lamp. 

He never got that post-office. 

To go back to Lucerne and its iishcrs, I concluded, after 
about nine hours' waiting, that the man who proposes to 
tarry till he sees somebody hook one of those well-fed and 
experienced fishes will find it wisdom to "put up at Gads- 
by's" and take it easy. It is likely that a fish has not been 
caught on that lake pier for forty years; bnt no matter, the 
patient fisher watches his cork there all the day long, just 
the same, and seems to enjoy it. One may see the fisher- 
loafers just as thick and contented and happy and patient all 
along the Seine at Paris, but tradition says that the only 
thing ever caught there in modern times is a thing they don't 
fish for at all, — the recent dog and the translated cat. 




CHAPTER XXVII. 

CLOSE by the Lion of Lucerne is what they call the " Gla- 
cier Garden," — and it is the only one in the world. It 
is on high ground. Four or five years ago, some workmen 
who were digging foundations for a house came upon this 
interesting relic of a long departed age. Scientiiic men per- 
ceived in it a confirmation of their theories concerning the 
glacial period ; so through their persuasions the little tract of 
ground was bought and permanently protected against being 
built upon. The soil was removed, and there Uiy the rasped 
and guttered track which the ancient glacier had made as it 
moved along upon its slow and tedious journey. This track 
was perforated by huge pot-shaped holes in the bed-rock, 
formed by tlie furious washing-around in them of boulders 
by the turbulent torrent which flows beneath nil glaciers. 
These huge round boulders still remain in the holes ; they 
and the walls of the holes are worn smooth by the long co)i- 
tinued chafing which they gave each other in those old days. 
It took a mighty force to churn these big lumps of stone 
around in that vigorous way. The neighboring country had 
a v^ery different shape, at that time, — the valleys have risen 
no and become hills, since, and the hills have become valleys. 
The boulders discove'-ed in the pots liad traveled a great dis- 
tance, for there is no rock like them nearer than the distant 
Rhone Glacier. 

272 







GLACIER GARDEN. 



EXCURSION ON TflE LAKE. 



273 



For some days we were content to enjoy looking at the blue 
lake Lucerne and at the piled-up masses of snow mountains 
that border it all around, — an enticing spectacle, this last, for 
there is a strange and fascinating beauty and charm about a 
majestic snow-peak with the sun blazing upon it or the moon- 
light softly enriching it,— but finally we concluded to try a 
bit of excurriioning around on a steamboat, and a dash on foot 
at the Eigi. Very well, we had a delightful trip to Flueleii, 
on a breezy, sunny day. Everybody sat on the upper deck, 
on benches, under an awning; everybody talked, laughed, 
and exclaimed at the wonderful scenery ; in truth, a trip on 
that lake is almost the perfection of pleasuring. The mount- 
ains were a never ceasing marvel. Sometimes they rose 




THE LAKE AND MOUNTAINS (MONT PILATUS) 

straight up out of the lake, and towered aloft and overshad- 
owed our pigmy steamer with their prodigious bulk in the 
most impi-essive way. Not snow-clad mountains, these, yet 
they climbed high enough toward the sky to meet the clouds 



274: 



LIFE ON THE MOUNTAINS. 






and veil their foreheads in them. They were not barren and 
repulsive, but clothed in green, and restful and pleasant to 
the eye. And they were so almost stiaight-up-and-down^ 
sometimes, that one could not imagine a man being able to 
keep his 
footing 
upon such 
a surface, 
yet there 
are paths, 
and the 
Swiss peo- 
ple go up 
aud down 
them eve- 
ry day. 

S o rae- 
times one 

of these monster precipices had the 
slight inclination of the huge shi])- 
liouses in dock yards, — then higli a- 
loft, toward tlie sky, it took a little 
stronger inclination, like that of a 
mansard roof, — and perched on this 
dizzy mansard one's eye detected 
little things like martin boxes, and n>^7^^ ■>■' 
presently perceived that these were <^ ^" i^ 
the dw^ellings of peasar.ts, — an airy ^^^.'-^^>„ 
place for a home, truly. And suppose '^^^^l *:^ 
•A peasant should walk in his sleep^ 
or his child should fall out of the mountain paths. 

front yard ? — the friends would have a tedious long jc.nrney 
down out of those cloud -heights before they found tlie re- 
mains. And yet tliose far-away homes looked ever so seduc- 
tive, they were so remote from the troubled world, they dozed 
in such an atmosphere of peace and dreams, — srrely no one 




ANOTHER SPECIMEN TOURIST. 275 

who had learned to live up there would ever want to live on 
a meaner level. 

We swept through the prettiest little curving arms of the 
lake, among these colossal green walls, enjoying new delights, 
always, as the stately panorama unfolded itself before us and 
re-rolled and hid itself behind us; and now and then we had 
the thrilling surprise of bursting suddenly upon a tremendous 
white mass like the distant and dominating J ungfrau, or some 
kindred giant, looming head and shoulders above a tumbled 
waste of lesser Alps. 

Once, while I was hungrily taking in one of these surprises, 
and doing my best to get all I possibly could of it while it 
should last, I was interrupted by a young and care-free voice, 

"You're an American, I think, — so'm 1." 

He was about eighteen, or possibly nineteen ; slender and! 
of medium height; open, frank, happy face; a restless but 
independent eye; a snub nose, which had the air of drawing 
back with a decent reserve from the silky new-born moustache 
below it until it should be introduced ; a loosely hung jaw, 
calculated to work easily in the sockets. He wore a low- 
crowned, narrow-brimmed straw hat, with a broad blue rib- 
bon around it which had a white anchor embroidered on it 
in front; nobby sliort-tailed coat, pantaloons, vest, all trim 
and neat and up with the fashion ; red-striped stockings, very 
low-quarter patent leather shoes, tied with black ribbon ;. 
blue ribbon around his neck, wide-open collar ; tiny diamond 
studs ; wrinkleles^ kids ; projecting cuifs, fastened with large- 
oxydized silver sleeve-buttons, bearing the device of a dog's 
face, — English pug. He carried a slim cane, surmounted 
with an English png's head with red glass eyes. Under his 
arm he carried a German Grammar, — Otto's. His hair was 
short, straight and smooth, and presently when he turned his 
head a moment. I saw that it was nicely parted behind. He 
took a cigarette out of a dainty box, stuck it into a meer- 
schaum holder which he carried in a morocco case, and reachr 
ed for ray cigar. While he was lighting. I said, — 
17 



276 



"WHERE ARE YOU FROM?" 



"What ship did j^ou 



" Yes, — I am an American." 
" I knew it, — I can always tell them, 
come over in ? " 
" Holsatia." 

" We came in the Batavia, — Canard, you know. What 
kind of a passage did you have ? " 
" Tolerably rough." 

" So did we. Captain said he'd hardly ever seen it rougher. 

Where are you from ? " 
" New England." 
" So'm I. I'm from New 
Bloomfield. Anybody with 
you?" 

" Yes, — a friend." 
" Our wlioJe family's along. 
It's awful slow, going around 
alone, — don't you think so ? " 
" Rather slow." 
"Ever been over here be- 
fore?" 
" Yes." 

" I haven't. My first trip. 
But we've been all aromid, — 
Paris and everywhere. I'm 
to enter Harvard next year 
"rou'EE AN AMERICAN— so AM I." StudyiHg Gemiau all the 
time, now. Can't enter till I know German. I know con- 
siderable French,^ — I get along pretty well in Paris, or any- 
where where they speak French.' What hotel are you stop- 
ping at? " 

" Schweitzerhof ." 

" 'No ! is that so ? I never see you in the reception room. 
I go to tlie reception room a good deal of the time, because 
there's so many Americans there. I make lots of acquaint- 
ances. I know an American as soon as I see him, — and so I 
speak to him and make his acquaintance. J like to be always 
making acquaintances, — don't you ? " 




I'M FOND OF TALKING, AIN'T YOU?" 2Y7 

" Lord, yes ! " 

" You see it breaks up a trip like this, first rate. I never 
get bored on a trip like this, it" I can make acquaintances and 
have somebody to talk to. But I think a trip like this would 
be an awful bore, if a body couldn't find anybody to get ac- 
quainted with and talk to on a trip like this. I'm fond of 
talking, ain't you ? " 

" Passionately." 

'' Have you felt bored, on this trip ? " 

" Not all the time, part of it." 

" That's it ! — you see you ought to go around and get ac- 
quainted, and talk. That's my way. That's the way I always 
do, — I just go 'round, 'round, 'round, and talk, talk, talk, — 
I never get bored. You been up the Kigi yet ? " 

" Going ? " 

"Itliink so." 

" What hotel you going to stop at ? " 

" I don't know. Is there more than one ? " 

" Three. You stop at the Schreiber — you'll find it full of 
A.mericans. What ship did you say you came over in?" 

" City of Antwerp." 

" German, I guess. You going to Geneva ? " 

" Yes." 

" What hotel you going to stop at?" 

" Hotel de 1' Ecu de Geneve." 

" Don't you do it ! Ko Americans there ? You stop at one 
of those big hotels over the bridge, — they're packed full of 
Americans." 

" But I want to practice my Arabic." 

" Good gracious, do you speak Arabic ? " 

" Yes, — well enough to get along." 

" Why, hang it, you won't get along in Geneva, — they don't 
speak Arabic, they speak French. What hotel are you stop- 
ping at here ? " 

" Hotel Pension-Beaurivafje." 



278 "WHAT HOTEL ARE YOU STOPPING AT?" 

" Sho, you ought to stop at the Schweitzerhof. Didn't 
you know the Schweitzerhof was tiie best hotel in Switzer- 
land ?— look at your Baedecker." 

" Yes, I know, — but I had an idea there warn't any Amer- 
icans there." 

" No Americans ! Why bless your soul it's just alive with 
them ! I'm in the great reception room most all the time. 
I make lots of acquaintances there, i^ot as many as 1 did 
at first, because now only the new ones stop in there,— the 
otliers go right along through. Where are you from ? " 

" Arkansaw." 

" Is that so ? I'm from New England, — New Bloomfield's 
my town when I'm at home. I'm having a mighty good 
time to-day, ain't you ?" 

"Divine." 

" That's what I call it. I like this knocking aronnd, loose 
and easy, and making acquaintances and talking. I know an 
American, soon as I see him ; so I go and speak to him and 
make his acquaintance. 1 ain't ever bored, on a trip like this, 
if I can make new acquaintances and talk. I'm awful fond 
of talking when I can get hold of the right kind of a person, 
ain't you ? " 

"I prefer it to any other dissipation." 

" That's my notion, too. Now some people like to take a 
book and sit down and read, and read, and read, or moon 
around yawping at the lake or these mountains and things, 
but that ain't my way ; no, sir, if they like it. let 'em do it, I 
don't object ; but as for me, talking's what / like. You 
been up the Rigi ? " 

" Yes." 

" What hotel did you stop at ? " 

" Schreiber." 

" Tliat's the place! — I stopped there too. Fiill of Amer- 
icans, wasnH it ? It always is, — always is. That's what they 
say. Everybody says that. What ship did you come over 
in?" 



AN ADVERTISING DODGE. 279 

" Ville de Paris." 

" French, I reckon. What kind of a passage did ..... . 

excuse me a minute, there's some Americans I haven't seen 
before." 

And away he went. He went uninjured, too, — I had the 
murderous impulse to harpoon him in the back with my 
alpenstock, but as I raised the weapon the disposition left 
me; 1 found 1 hadn't tlie heart to Ivill liim, he was sucli a 
joyous, innocent, good-natured numscull. 

Half an hour later I was sitting on a bench inspecting, 
with strong interest, a noble monolith which we were skim- 
ming by, — a monolith not shaped by man, but by Nature's 
free great hand, — a massy pyramidal rock eighty feet high, 
devised by Nature ten million years ago against the day 
when a man worthy of it should need it for his monument. 
The time came at last, and now this grand remembrancer 
bears Schiller's name in huge letters upon its face. Curi- 
ously enough, this rock was not degraded or defiled in any 
way.. It is said that two years ago a stranger let himself 
down from the top of it with ropes and pulleys, and painted 
all over it, in blue letters bigger than those in Schiller's 
name, these words : 

" Tey Sozodont;" 
" Buy Sun Stove Polish ; " 
" Helmbold's Buchu ; " 
" Try Benzaline for the Blood." 
He was captured, and it turned out that he was an Ameri- 
can. Upon his trial the judge said to him, — 

'■ You are from a land where any insolent that wants to, 
IS privileged to profane and insult Nature, and through her, 
Nature's God, if by so doing he can put a sordid penny in 
his pocket. But here the case is different. Because you are 
a foreigner and ignorant, 1 will make your sentence light; 
if you were a native I would deal strenuously with you. — 
riear and obey * You will immediately remove every trace 
of your offensive work from the Schiller monument; you 



280 



VANDALISM PUNISHED. 



you pay a fine of ten thousand francs; jou will sufi*er two 
years' imprisonment at hard labor; you will then be horse- 
whipped, tarred and feathered, deprived of your ears, ridden 
on a rail to the confines of the canton, and banished forevei". 
The severer penalties are omitted in your case, — not as a 
grace to you, but to that great republic which had the mis- 
fortune to give you birth." 

Tlie steamers's benches were ranged 
back to back across the deck. My 
back hair was mingling innocently 
with the back hair of a couple of 
ladies. Presently they were ad- 
dressed by some one and I over- 
heard this conversation : 

"You are Americans, I think ? 
So'm I." 

" Yes, — we are Americans." 
"I knew it, — I can always tell 
them. What ship did you come over 
in?" 

" City of Chester." 
"O yes, — Inman line. We came 
in the Batavia, — Cunard, you know. 
What kind of a passage did you 
have l " 

" Pretty fair." 

" That was luck. We had it awful 
rough. Captain said he'd hardly ever seen it rougher. 
Where are you from ? " 
" New Jersey." 

" So'm I. No — I didn't mean that ; Pm from New Eng 
land. New Bloomfield's my place. These your children ? 
— belong to both of you?" 

" Only to one of us ; they are mine ; my friend is not 
married." 

" Single, I reckon ? So'm I. Are you two ladies travel- 
ing alone?" ^ 




ENTERPRISE. 



AN AMERICAN TOLD ME SO.' 



281 



" No, — my husband is with us." 

" Our whole family's along. It's awful slow, going around 
alone, — don't you think so ? " 

" I suppose it must be." 

" Hi, there's Mount Pilatus coming in sight again. Named 
after Pontius Pilate, you know, that shot the apple off of 
William Tell's head. Guide-book tells all about it, they say. 
I didn't read it — an American told me. I don't read when 
I'm knocking around like this, hav- 
ing a good time. Did you ever see 
the chapel where William Tell used to 
preach ? " 

" I did not know he ever preached 
there." 

" O, yes he did. That American 
told me so. He don't ever shut up 
his guide-book. He knows more about 
this lake than the fishes in it Besides, 
they call'ii ' Tell's Chapel ' — you know 
that yourself. You ever been over 
here before ?" 

" Yes." 

'' I haven't. It's my first trip. But 
we've been all around, — Paris and 
everywhere. Pm to enter Harvard 
next year. — Studying German all the 
time now. Can't enter till I know 
German. This book's Otto's Gram- 
mar. It's a mighty good book to get 
the ich habe gehabt hahen's out of. the constant searcher. 
But I don't really study when I'm knocking around this way. 
If the notion takes me, I just run over my little old ich hahe 
gehabt, du hast gehabt, er hat gehabt, wir haben gehabt, 
ihr hdbet gehabt, f^ie haben gehabt, — kind of 'Now-I-lay- 
me-down-to-sleep' fashion, you know, and after that, may- 
be I don't buckle to it again for three days. It's awf nl 




282 " I ALWAYS ASK EVERYBODY." 

undermining to the intellect, German is ; you want to take it 
in small doses,or tirst yon kno>v your brains all run together, 
and you feel them sloshing around in your head same as so 
much drawn butter. But French is different; French aint' 
anything. I ain't any more afraid of French than a tramp's 
afraid of pie; I can rattle off my little^a^, tu as, il a, and 
the rest of it, just as easy as a-b-o. I get along pretty wtll 
in Paris, or anywhere where they speak French. What 
hotel you stopping at? " 

" The Schweitzerhof." 

"]^o! is that so? 1 never see you in the big reception 
room. I go in there a good deal of the time, because there's 
so niany Americans there. 1 make lots of acquaintances. 
You been up the Rigi yet? " 

" No." 

" Going ? " 

" We think of it." 

" What hotel you going to stop at ? " 

" I don't know." 

" Well, then, you stop at the Schreiber, — it's full of Amer- 
icans. What ship did you come over in?" 

"City of Chester." 

" O, yes, I remember I asked you that before. But I 
always ask everybody what ship they came over in, and so 
sometimes I forget and ask again. You going to Geneva?" 

" Yes." 

"What hotel you gi»ing to stop at?" 

" We expect to stop in a pension." 

" 1 don't hardly believe you'll like that : there's very few 
Americans in the pensions. What hotel are you stopping 
at here ? " 

" The Schweitzerhof." 

" O, yes, I asked you that before, too. But I always ask 
everybody what hotel they're stopping at, and so I've got my 
head all mixed up with hotels. But it makes talk, and 1 
love to talk. It refreshes me up so, — don't it you — on a trip 
like this ? " 



"I BELIEVE THAT IS ALL." 283 

" Yes, — sometimes." 

" Well, it does me, too. As long as I'm talking I never 
feel bored, — ain't that tlie way with you ? " 

" Yes — generally. But there are exceptions to the rule." 

" O, of course. / don't cai-e to talk to everybody, myself. 
If a person starts in to jabber-jabber-jabber about scenery, 
and history, and pictures, and all sorts of tiresomie things, 1 
get the fan-tods mighty soon. I say ' Well, I must be going 
now, — hope I'll see you again' — and then I take a walk. 
Where yon from?" 

" New Jersey." 

*' Why, bother it all, I asked you that before, too. Have 
you seen the Lion of Lucerne \ " 

" Not yet." 

"Nor I, either. But the man who told me about Mount 
Pilatus says it's one of the things to see. It's twenty-eight 
feet long. It don't seem reasonable, but he said so, anywaj-. 
He saw it yesterday ; said it was dying, then, so I reckon it's 
dead by this time. But that ain't any matter, of course they'll 
stuff it. Did you say the children are yours, — or hersV 

"Mine." 

" O, so you did. Are you going up the no, I asked 

you that. What ship no, I asked you that, too. 

What hotel are you no, you told me that. Let me 

see um O, what kind of a voy no, we've 

been over that ground, too. LTm um well, I 

believe that is all. Bonjour — I am very glad to have made 
your acquaintance, ladies. Guten TagP 




CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE Rigi-Kulm is an imposing Alpine mass, 6,000 feet 
high, which stands by itself, and commands a mighty 
prospect of blue lakes, green valleys, and snowy mountains 
—a compact and magnilicent picture three hundred miles in 
circumference. The ascent is made by rail, or horseback, or 
on foot, as one may prefer. 1 and my agent panoplied our- 
selves in walking costume, one bright morning, and started 
down the lake on the steamboat ; we got ashore at the village 
of Waggis, three quarters of an hour distant from Lucerne, 
This village is at the foot of the mountain. 

We were soon tramping leisurely up the leafy mule-path, 
and then the talk began to flow, as usual. It was twelve 
o'clock noon, and a breezy, cloudless day ; the ascent was 
gradual, and the glimpses, from under the curtaining boughs, 
of blue water, and tiny sail boats, and beetling cliflFs, were aa 
charming as glimpses of dreamland. All the circumstances 
were perfect — and the anticipations, too, for we should soon 
be en]oying, for the first time, that wonderful spectacle, an 
Alpine sunrise — the object of our journey. There was (ap- 
parently) no real need to hurry, for the guide-book made the 
walking distance from Waggis to the summit only three 
hours and a quarter. I say "apparently," because the guide- 
book had already fooled us once, — about the distance from 
Alierheiligen to Oppenau, — and for aught I knew it might 

284 



STRIPPING FOR BUSINESS. 



285 




be getting ready to fool us again. We were only certain as 
to the altitudes, — we calculated to find out for ourselves how 
many hours it is from the bottom to the top. The summit is 
6,000 feet above the sea, but only 4,500 feet above the lake. 
When we had walked half an hour, we were fairly into the 
swing and humor of the undertak- 
ing;, so we cleared for action ; that is 
to say, we got a boy whom we met to 
carry our alpenstocks and satchels 
and overcoats and things for us ; that 
left us free for business. 

I suppose we mast have stopped 
oftener to stretch out on the grass in 
the shade and take a bit of a smoke 7.Vv ^^._^, 
than this boy was used to, for present I -'.'-i^T^ '■' 
ly he asked if it had been our idea tc / ':f,-".j.. __ 
hire him by the job, or by the year ( {^.^-"^^^^ 
We told him he could move along if '*^" 

he was in a hurry. He said he wasn't 
in such a very particular hurry, but he 
wanted to get to the top while he was 
young. We told him to clear out. 
tiien, and leave the things at the upper- 
most hotel and say we should be along 
presently. He said he would secure 
us a hotel if he could, but if they 
were all full he would ask them to 
build another one and hurry up and 
get the paint and plaster dry against 
we arrived. Still gently chaffing us 
he pushed ahead, up the trail, and soon 
disappeared. By six o'clock we were pretty high up in the 
air, and the view of lake and mountains had greatly grown in 
breadth and interest. We halted a while at a little public 
house, where we had bread and cheese and a quart or two of 
fresh milk, out on the porch, with the big panorama all before 
us, — and then moved on again. 




280 



A NIGHT'S REST. 



Ten minutes afterward we met a hot, red-faced man plung- 
iiij^ down the mountain, with mighty strides, swinging his 
alpenstock ahead of him and taking a grip on the ground with 
its iron point to support these big strides. He stopped, fan- 
ned himself with his 



liat, swabbed the per- 
spiration from his face 
and neck with a red 
handl^erchief, panted a 
moment or two, and 
asked liow far it was to 
Waggis. I said three 
liours. He looked sur- 
prised, and said, — 

" Why, it seems as if 
I could toss a biscnit 
into the lake from here, 
itV fo close by. Is that 
an inn, there?" 
I said it was. 
"Well," said he, "I 
can't stand another three hours, I've had enough for to day ; 
ril take a bed there." 
I asked, — 

'* Are we nearly to the top?" 

"Nearly to the top! Why, bless your soul, you haven't 
really started, yet." 

1 said we would put up at the inn, too. So we turned back 
and ordered a hot supper, and had quite a jolly evening of it 
with this Englishman. 

The German landlady gave us neat rooms and nice beds, 
and when I and my agent turned in, it was with the resolu- 
tion to be up early and make the utmost of our first Alpine 
sunrise. But of course we were dead tired, and slept like po- 
licemen ; so when we awoke in the morning and ran to the 
window it was already too late, because it was half past eleven. 




TlIK ENGLISHMAN. 



A GLIMPSE OF THE RAILROAD. 287 

It was a sharp disappointment. However, we ordered break- 
fast and told the landlady to call the Englishman, but she said 
he was already np and otf at daybreak, — and swearing mad 
about something or other. We could not iind out what the 
matter was. He had asked the landlady the altitude of her 
place above the IcN^el of the lake, and she had told him four- 
teen hundred and ninety-five feet. That m as all that was 

said; then he lost his temper. He said that between 

fools and guide-books, a man could acquire ignorance enough 
in twenty-four hours in a country like this to last him a year. 
Harris believed our boy had been loading him up with mis- 
information ;-and this was probably the case, for his epithet 
described that boy to a dot. 

We got under way about the turn of noon, and pulled out 
for the summit again, with a fresh and vigorous step. When 
we had gone about two hundred yards, and stopped to rest, 
I glanced to the left while I was lighting my pipe, and in the 
distance detected a long worm of black smoke crawling lazily 
up the steep mountain. Of course that was the locomotive. 
We propped ourselves on our elbows at once, to gaze, for we 
had never seen a mountain railway yet. Presently we could 
make out the train. It seemed incredible that that thing 
should creep straight up a sharp slant like the roof of a house, 
— but therj it was, and it was doing that very miracle. 

In the course of a couple of hours we reached a fine breezy 
altitude where the little shepherd-huts had big stones all over 
their roofs to hold them down to the earth when the great 
storms rage. The country was wild and rocky about here, 
but there were plenty of trees, plenty of moss, and grass. 

Away off on the opposite shore of the lake we could see 
some villages, and now for the first time we could observe 
the real difference between their proportions and those of the 
giant mountains at whose feet they slept. When one is in 
one of those villages it seems spacious, and its houses seem 
high and not out of proportion to the mountain that over- 
hangs them — but from our altitude, what a change ! The 



288 



VILLAGES AND MOUNTAINS. 



mountains were bigger and grander than ever, as tliey stood 
there thinking their solemn thoughts with their heads in the 
drifting clouds, but the villages at their feet, — when the pains- 
taking eye could trace them up and find them, — were so re- 
duced, so almost invisible, and lay so flat against the ground, 



|C^- 





that the exactest simile I 
can devise is to compare 
them to ant-deposits of 
granulated dirt over-shad- 
owed by the huge bulk of 
a cathedral. The steam- 
boats skimming along un- 
dcir the stupendous preci- 
pices were diminished by 
THE "joDLER," distaHce to the daintiest 

little toys, the sail-boats rnd row-boats to shallops proper 

for fairies that keep hoise in the cups of lilies and riJe to 

court on the backs of bumble-bees. 

Presently we came upon half a dozen sheep nibbling grass 

in the spray of a stream of clear water that sprang from a 



THE ALPINE JODEL. 



289 



rock wall a hundred feet higli, and all at once our ears were 

startled with a melodious " Lul ... 1 1 lul-lul-Z«hee-o- 

o-o ! " pealing joy- 
ously from a near 
but in visible source, ' 
and recognized that 
we were hearing 
for the first time 
the famous Alpine 
lodel in its own 
native wilds. And 
we recognized, also, 
that it was that sort 
of quaint comming- 
ling of baritone 
and falsetto which 
at home we call f 
" Tyrolese warb- 
ling." 

The jodling (pro- 
nounced yodling, , 



— emphasis on the ^-^ jj/ 

o,) continued, and [' * ^'^*'''"WV '^^ 

was yerj- pleasant kfe,*^,'!*"' 




'J \ If 



H\'«::L'i»sffaii'i j.'j-... 



and inspiriting to 
hear. Nowthejod- another vocaust. 

ler appeared, — a shepherd boy of sixteen, — and in our glad- 
ness and gratitude we gave him a franc to jodel some more. 
So he jodeled, and we listened. We moved on, presently, 
and he generously jodeled us out of sight. After about 
fifteen minutes we came across another shepherd boy who 
was jodling, and gave him half a franc to keep it up. He 
also jodled us out of sight. After that, we found a jodler 
every ten minutes ; we gave the first one eight cents, the sec- 
ond one six cents, the third one four, the fourth one a penn}^ 
contributed nothing to Nos. 5, 6, and 7, and during the 



290 



ABOUT ICE WATER. 



remainder of the day hired the rest of the jodlers, at a franc 
apiece, not to jodel any more. There is somewhat too much 
of this jodh'ng in the Alps. 

About the middle of the afternoon we passed throuo-h a 

_ ^^^= S^^=:^-=r=^^-^ prodigious natural gateway 

^^^"^ ~ ~ called the Felsenthor, formed 

:5; ^ by two enormous upright 

rocks, with a third lying 
across the top. There was a 
very attractive little hotel 
close by, but our energies 
were not conquered yet, so 
we M'ent on. 

Three hours afterward we 
came to the railway track. 
It was planted straight up 
the mountain with the slant 
of a ladder that leans against 
a house, and it seemed to us 
that a man w^ould need good 
nerves who proposed to travel 
up it or down it either. 

During the latter part of 
the afternoon we cooled our roasting interiors with ice-cold 
water from clear streams, the only really satisfying water we 
had tasted since we left home, for at the hotels on the conti- 
nent they merely give you a tumbler of ice to soak your water 
in, and that only modifies its hotness,- doesn't make it cold. 
Water can only be made cold enough for summer comfort 
by being prepared in a refrigerator or a closed ice-pitcher. 
Europeans say ice water impairs digestion. How do they 
know? — they never drink an3\ 

At ten minutes past six we readied tlie Kaltbad station, 
where there is a spacious hotel with great verandahs which 
command a majestic expanse of lake and mountain scenery. 
We were pretty well fagged out, now, but as we did not wish 




THE FELSENTHOR. 



TOO LATE IN THE DAT. 



291 



to mi&s the Alpine sunrise, we got through with our dinner as 
quickly as possible and hurried off to bed. It was unspeaka- 




A VIEW FT^OM THE STATION. 



bly comfortable to stretch our weary limbs between the cool 
damp sheets. And how we did sleep ! — for there is no opiate 
like Alpine pedestrianism. 

In the morning we both awoke and leaped out of bed at 
the same instant and ran and stripped aside the window cur- 
tains ; but we suffered a bitter disappointment again : it was 
already half past three in the afternoon. 

We dressed sullenl}' and in ill spirits, each accusing the 
other of over-sleeping. Harris said if we had brought the 
courier along, as we ought to have done, we should not have 
missed these sunrises. I said he knew very well that one of 
us would have had to sit up and wake the courier; and I 
added that we were having trouble enough to take care of 
ourselves, on this climb, without having to take care of a 
courier besides. 

During breakfast our spirits came up a little, since we found 
18 



292 PLEASANT PROSPECTS AHEAD. 

by the guide-book that in the hotels on the summit the tourist 
is not left to trust to hiek for his sunrise, but is roused be- 
times by a man wIjo goes through the halls with a great Al- 
pine horn, blowing blasts that would raise the dead. And 
there was another consoling thing; the guide-book said that 
up there on the summit the guests did not wait to dress much, 
but seized a red bed-blanket and sailed out arrayed like an 
Indian. This was good; this would be romantic; two hun- 
dred and fifty people grouped on the windy summit, witli 
their hair flying and their red blankets flapping, in the solemn 
presence of the snowy ranges and the messenger splendors 
of the coming sun, would be a striking and memorable spec- 
tacle. So it was good luck, not ill luck, that we had missed 
those other sunrises. 

We were informed by the guide-book that we were now 
3,228 feet above the level of the lake, — therefore full two- 
thirds of our journey had been accomplished. We got away at 
a quarter past four, p. m. ; a hundred yards above the hotel 
the railway divided ; one track w|int straight up the steep 
liill, the other one turned square off to the right, with a very 
slight grade. We took the latter, and followed it more than a 
mile, turned a rocky corner and came in sight of a handsome 
new hotel. If we had gone on, we should have arrived at the 
summit, but Harris preferred to ask a lot of questions, — as 
usual, of a man who didn't know anything, — and he told us 
to 2;o back and follow the other route. We did so. We could 
ill aflford this loss of time. 

We climbed, and climbed; and we kept on climbing; we 
reached about forty summit's but there was always another 
one just ahead. It came on to rain, and it rained in dead 
earnest. We were soaked through, and it was bitter cold. 
Next a smoky fog of clouds covered the wliole region densely, 
and we took to the railway ties to keep from getting lost. 
Sometimes we slopped along in a narrow path on the left 
hand side of the track, but by and by when the fog blew aside 
a little and we saw that we were treading the rampart of a 



LOST IN THE DARK. 



293 



precipice and that our left elbows were projecting over a 
perfectly boundless and bottomless vacancy, we gasped, and 
jumped for the ties again. 

The night shut down, dark and drizzly and cold. About 
eight in the evening the fog lifted and showed us a well 
worn path which led up a very steep rise to the left. We 
took it and as soon as we had got far enough from the 
railway to render the finding it again an impossibility, tlie 
fog shut down on us once more. 

We were in a bleak unsheltered place, now, and had to 
trndge right along, in order to keep warm, though we rather 
expected to go over a precipice sooner or later. About nine 
o'clock we made an important discovery, — that we were n<^ t 
in any path. We groped around a while on our handf^ and 
knees, but could not find it; so we sat down in the mud and 
the wet scant grass to wait. We were terrified into this by 




LOST IN THE MIST. 



being suddenly confronted with a vast body which showed 
itself vaguely for an instant and in the next instant was 
smothered in the fog again. It was really the hotel we were 



294 



THE LOST FOUND. 



after, monstrously magnified by the fog, but we took it for 
the face of a precipice and decided not to try to claw up it. 

We sat there an hour, with chattering teeth and quivering 
bodies, and quarreled over all sorts of trifles, but gave most 
of our attention to abusing each other for the stupidity of de- 
serting the railway track. We sat with our backs to that 
precipice, because what little wind there was came from that 
quarter. At some time or other the fog thinned a little ; we 
did not know when, for we were facing the empty universe 
and the thinness could not show ; but at last Harris happen- 
ed to look around, and there stood a huge, dim, spectral hotel 




THE RIGI-KULM HOTEL. 



where the precipice had been. One could faintly discern the 
windows and chinineys, and a dull blur of lights. Our first 
emotion was deep, unutterable gratitude, our next was a fool- 
ish rage, born of the suspicion that possibly the hotel had 
been visible three-quarters of an hour while we sat there in 
those cold puddles quarreling. 

Yes, it was the Rigi-Kulm hotel — the one that occupies 



AT THE RIGI-KULM HOTEL. 295 

the extreme summit, and whose remote little sparkle of lights 
we had often seen glinting high aloft among the stars from 
our balcony away down yonder in Lucerne. The crusty 
portier and the crusty clerks ga\ e us the surly reception which 
their kind deal in in prosperous times, but by mollifying them 
with an extra display of obsequiousness and servility we fin- 
ally got them to show us to the room which our boy had en- 
gaged for us. 

We got into some dry clothing, and while our supper was 
preparing we loafed forsakenly tlirough a couple of vast cav- 
ernous drawing rooms, one of which had a stove in it. This 
stove was in a corner, and densely walled around with peo- 
ple. We could not get near the fire, so we moved at large 
in tlie arctic spaces, among a multitude of people who sat 
silent, smileless, forlorn and sliivering, — thinking what fools 
they were to come, perhaps. There were some Americans, 
and some Germans, but one could see that the great majority 
were English. 

We lounged into an apartment where there was a great 
crowd, to see what was going on. It was a memento-maga- 
zine. Tlie tourists were eagerly buying all sorts and styles 
of paper-cutters, marked "Souvenir of the Rigi," with handles 
made of the little curved horn of the ostensible chamois; 
there were all manner of wooden goblets and such things, 
similarly marked. I was going to buy a paper-cutter, but I 
believed I could remember the cold comfort of the Rigi-Kulm 
without it, so I smothered the impulse. 

Supper warmed us, and we went immediately to bed, — 
but first, as Mr. Baedeker requests all tourists to call his at- 
tention to any errors which they may find in his guide-books, 
I dropped liim a line to inform him that when he said the 
foot-journey from Waggis to the summit \vas only three 
hours and a quarter, he missed it by just about three days. 
I had previously informed him of his mistake about the dis- 
tance from AUerheiligen to Oppenau, and had also informed 
the Ordnance Department of the German government of 



296 



THE ALPINE HORN. 



the same error in the imperial maps. 1 will add, here, that 
1 never got any answer to these letters, or any thanks from 
either of those sources ; and what is still more discourteous, 
these corrections have not been made, either in the maps or 
the guide-books. But I will write again when I get time, 
for my letters may have miscarried. 

We curled up in the clammy beds, and went to sleep with- 
out rocking. We were so sodden with fatigue that we never 
stirred nor turned over till the booming blasts of the Alpine 




WHAT AWAKENED US. 



horn aroused us. It may well be imagined that we did not 
lose any time. We snatched on a few odds and ends of cloth- 
ing, cocooned ourselves in the proper red blankets, and plung- 
ed along the halls and out into the whistling wind bare-headed. 
We saw a tall wooden scaffolding on the very peak of the sum- 
mit, a hundred yards away, and made for it. We rushed up 
the stairs to the top of thS scaffolding, and stood there, above 
the vast outlyinsi; worlo, with hair flying and ruddy blankets 
waving and cracking in the fierce breezQ. 

" Fifteen minutes too late, at last ! " said Hariis, m a vexed 
T^oice. " The sun is clear above the horizon." 

"No matter," I said, " it is a most magnificent spectacle, 
and we will see it do the rest of its rising, anyway." 




A SUMMIT SUNRISE 



AN EVENING SUNRISE. 299 

In a moment we were deeply absorbed in the marvel be- 
fore us, and dead to everything else. The great cloud-barred 
disk of the sun stood just above a limitless expanse of toss- 
ing white-caps, — so to speak, — a billowy chaos of massy 
mountain domes and peaks draped in imperishable snow, and 
flooded with an opaline glory of changing and dissolving 
splendors, whilst through rifts in a black cloud-bank above the 
sun, radiating lances of diamond dust shot to the zenith. The 
cloven valleys of the lower world swam in a tinted mist which 
veiled the ruggedness of their crags and ribs and ragged for- 
ests, and turned all the forbidding region into a soft and rich 
and sensuous paradise. 

We could not speak. We could hardly breathe. We could 
only gaze in drunken ecstasy and drink it in. Presently 
Harris exclaimed, — 

" Why nation, its going dow7i I " 

Perfectly true. We had missed the morning horn-blow, 
and slept all day. This was stupefying. Harris said, — 

" Look here, the sun isn't the spectacle,— its us, — stacked 
up here on top of this gallows, in these idiotic blankets, and 
two hundred and iifty well dressed men and women down 
here gawking up at us and not caring a straw wh-^ther the 
sun rises or sets, as long as they've got such a ridiculo ,s specta- 
cle as this to set down in their memorandum-books. They 
seem to be laughing their ribs loose, and there's one girl there 
that appears to be going all to pieces. I never saw such a 
man as you before. I think you are the very last possibility 
in the way of an asp.'' 

"What have /done?" I answered with heat. 

"What have you done ? You've got up at half past seven 
o'clock in the evening to see the sun rise, that's what you've 
done." 

"And have you done any better, Pd like to know? I 
always used to get up with the lark, till T came under the 
petrifying influence of your turgid intellect." 

" You used to get up with the lark, — O, no doubt, — you'll 



300 



EXTRA PRECAUTIONS TAKEN. 



get up with the hangman one of these daj-s. But you ought 
to be ashamed to be jawing here like this, in a red blanket, 
on a forty-foot scaffold on top of the Alps. And no end of 
people down here to boot ; this isn't any place for an exhi- 
bition of temper." 

And so the customary quarrel went on. When the sun 
was fairly down, we slipped back to the hotel in the charita- 
ble gloaming, and went to bed again. We had encountered 
the horn-blower on the way, and he liad tried to collect com- 
pensation, not only for announcing the sunset, which we did 
see, but for the sunrise, which we had totally missed ; but we 
said no, we only took our solar rations on the " European 
plan " — pay for what you get. He promised to make us 
hear his horn in the morning, if we were alive. 




CHAPTER XXIX. 

HE kept his M'ord. We heard his horn and instantly got 
up. It was dark and cold and wretched. As I fum- 
bled around for the matches, knocking things down with 
my quaking hands, I wished the sun would rise in the middle 
of the day, when it was warm and bright and cheerful, and 
one wasn't sleepy. We proceeded to dress by the gloom of 
a couple of sickly candles, but we could hardly button any- 
thing, our hands shook so. I thought of how many happy 
people there were in Europe, Asia and America, and every- 
where, who were sleeping peacefully in their beds and did 
not have to get up and see the Rigi sunrise, — people who 
did not appreciate their advantage, as like as not, but would 
get up in the morning wanting more boons of Providence, 
While thinking these thoughts I yawned, in a rather ample 
way, and my upper teeth got hitched on a nail over the door, 
and whilst I was mounting a chair to free myself, Harris 
drew the window curtain and said, — 

" O, this is luck ! We shan't have to go out at all, — yon- 
der are the mountains, in full view." 

That was glad news, indeed. It made us cheerful right 
away. One could see the grand Alpine masses dimly out- 
lined against the black firmament, and one or two faint stars 
blinking through rifts in the night. Fully clothed, and 
wrapped in blankets, we huddled ourselves up, by the window, 

301 



302 



SUNRISE IN THE WEST. 



with lighted pipes, and fell into chat, while we waited in 
exceeding comfort to see how an Alpine sunrise was going 
to look by caudle light. By and by a delicate, spiritual 

sort of effulgence spread 
itself by imperceptible de- 
grees over the loftiest alti- 
tudes of the snowy wastes, 
— but there the effort 
seemed to stop. I said, 
presently, — 

" There is a hitch about 
this sunrise somewhere. 
It doesn't seem to go. 
What do you reckon is 
the matter with it ? " 

"I don't know. It ap- 
pears to .hang fire some- 
w^liere. I never saw a 
sunrise act like that be- 
fore. Can it be that the 
hotel is playing anything 
on us ? " 

" Of course not. The 
hotel merely has a prop- 
erty interest in the sun, 
it has nothing to do with 
the management of it. 
EXCEEDINGLY COMFORTABLE. It Is a prccarlous klud of 

property, too ; a succession of total eclipses wonld probably 
ruin this tavern. Now what can be the matter with this 
sunrise ? " 

Harris jumped up and said, — 

'' I've got it ! I know what's the matter with it ! We've 
been looking at the place where the sun set last night ! " 

''It is perfectly true ! Why couldn't you have thought of 
that sooner ? Now we've lost another one ! And all through 




TOO LATE. 



303 



your blundering. It was exactly like you to light a pipe and 
sit down to wait for the sun to rise in the west." 

"It was exactly like me to lind out the mistake, too. 
You never would have found it out. I find out all the 
mistakeii." 

You make them all, too, else jour most valuable faculty 




would be wasted on you. 
But don't stop to quarrel, 
now, — maybe we are not 
too late yet." 

But we were. The sun 
was well up when we got to 
the exhibition ground. 

On our way up we met the 
crowd returning — men and 
women dressed in all forts of queer 
costumes, and exhibiting all degrees 
of cold and wretchedness in their 
gaits and countenances. A dozen 
still remained on the ground when we reached there, hud- 
dled together about the scaffold with their backs to the bitter 
wind. They had their red guide-books open at the dia- 
gram of the view, and were painfully picking out the several 



THE SUNRISE. 



304 VIEW FROM THE SUMMIT. 

mountains and trying to impress their names and positions 
on tlieir memories. It was one of tlie saddest si<^lits I ever 
saw. 

Two sides of this place were guarded by railings, to keep 
people from being blown over the precipices. The view, look- 
ing sheer down into the broad valley, eastward, from this 
great elevation, — almost a pei'pendicular mile, — was very 
quaint and curious. Counties, towns, hilly ribs and ridges, 
wide stretches of green meadow, great forest tracts, winding 
streams, a dozen bine lakes, a flock of busy steamboats — we 
saw all this little world in unique circumstantiality of detail — 
saw it just as the birds see it — and all reduced to the smallest 
of scales and as sharply worked out and finished as a steel 
engraving. The numerous toy villages, with tiny spiies pro- 
jecting out of them, were just as the children might have 
left them when done with play the day before ; the forest 
tracts were diminished to cushions of moss ; one or two big 
lakes were dwarfed to ponds, the smaller ones to puddles, — 
though they did not look like puddles, but like blue eai--drops 
which had fallen and lodged in slight depressions, conformable 
to tlieir shapes, among the moss-beds and the smooth levels 
of dainty green farm-land ; the microscopic steamboats glided 
along, as in a city reservoir, taking a mighty time to cover 
the distance between ports which seemed only a yard apart; 
and the isthmus which separated two lakes looked as if one 
might stretch out on it and lie with both elbows in the water, 
3^et we knew invisible wagons were toiling across it and 
tindino; the distance a tedious one. This beautiful miniature 
world had exactly the appearance of those "relief maps" 
which reproduce nature precis'ely, with the heights and de- 
pressions and other details graduated to a reduced scale, and 
with the rocks, trees, lakes, etc., colored after nature. 

I believed we could walk down to Waggis or Yitznau in 
a day, but I knew we could go down by rail in about an hour, 
so I chose the latter method. I wanted to see what it was 
like, anyway. The train came along about the middle of the 
forenoon, and an odd thing it was. The locomotive boiler 



RAILROAD UP THE MOUNTAIN, 306 

stood on end, and it and the whole locomotive were tilted 




THE RIGI-KULM. 



sharply backward. There were two passenger cars, roofed. 



306 DOWN THE MOUNTAIN. 

but wide open all around. These cars were not tilted back, 
but the seats were ; this enables the passenger to sit level 
while going down a steep incline. 

There are three railway tracks ; the central one is cogged ; 
the " lantern wheel "of the engine grips its way along these 
cogs, and pulls the train up the hill or retards its motion on 
the down trip. About the same speed, — three miles an hour, 
— is maintained both ways. Whether going up or down, 
the locomotive is always at the lower end of the train. It 
pushes, in the one case, braces back in the other. The pas- 
senger rides backward, going up, and faces forward going 
down. 

We got front seats, and while the train moved along about 
fifty yards on level ground, I was not the least frightened ; 
but now it started abruptly down stairs, and I caught my 
breath. And I, like my neighbors, unconsciously held back 
all I could, and threw my weight to the rear, but of course 
that did no particular good. I had slidden down the balusters 
when I was a boy, and thought nothing of it, but to slide 
down the balusters in a railway train is a thing to make one's 
flesh creep. Sometimes we had as much as ten yards of 
almost level ground, and this gave us a few full breaths in 
comfort ; but straightway we would turn a corner and see a 
long steep line of rails stretching down below us, and the 
comfort was at an end. One expected to see the locomo- 
tive pause, or slack up a little, and approach this plunge 
cautiously, but it did nothing of the kind ; it went calmly 
on, and when it reached tlie jumping-oif place it made a 
sudden bow, and went gliding smoothly down stairs, un- 
troubled by the circumstances. 

It was wildly exhilarating to slide along the edge of tlie 
. precipices, after this grisly fashion, and look straight down 
upon that far-off valley which I was describing a while ago. 
There was no level ground at the Kaltbad station; the 
railbed was as steep as a roof ; 1 was curious to see how the 
stop was going to be managed. But it was very simple : the 
train came sliding down, and when it reached the riglit spot 



A CURIOUS EFFECT. 



307 



it just stopped — that was all there was "to it" — stopped on 
the steep incline, and when the exchange of passengers and 
baggage had been made, it moved off' and went slidirig down 
again. The train can be stopped anywhere, at a moment's 
notice. 

There was one curious effect, which I need not take the 
trouble to describe, — because I can scissor a description of it 
out of the railway company's advertising pamphlet, and save 
my ink : 

"On the whole tour, particularly at the Descent, M'e undergo 
an optical illusion which often seems to be incredible. All 
the shrubs, fir-trees, stables, houses, etc., seem to be bent in 
a slanting direction, as by an immense pressure of air. They 
are all standing awry, so much awry that the chalets and 
cottages of the peasants seem to be tumbling down. It is 
the consequence of the steep inclination of the line. Those 
who are seated in the carriage do not observe that they are 
going down a declivity of 20 to 25° (their seats being adapt- 
ed to this course of proceeding and being bent down at 




AN OPTICAL ILLUSION. 

their backs.) They mistake their carriage and its horizontal 
lines tor a proper measure of the normal plain, and therefore 
all the objects outside which really are in a horizontal 



308 



CONFIDENCE ACQUIRED. 



position, must show a disproportion of 20 to 25^^ declivity, 
in regard to the mountain." 

By the time one readies Kaltbad, he has acquired confi- 
dence in the railway, and he now ceases to try to ease the 
locomotive by holding back. Thenceforward he smokes his 
pipe in serenity, and gazes out upon the magnificent picture 
below and about him with unfettered enjoyment. There is 
nothing to interrupt the view or the breeze ; it is like inspect- 
ing the world on the wing. However, — to be exact, — 
there is one place where the serenity lapses for a while : this 
is while one is crossing the Schnurrtobel Bridge, a frail 
structure which swings its gossamer frame down through 
the dizzy air, over a gorge, like a vagrant spider-strand. 

One has no difficulty in remembering his sins while the 
train is creeping down this bridge; and he repents of them, 
too ; though he sees, when he gets to Yitznau, that he need 
not have done it, the bridge was perfectly safe. 

So ends the eventful trip which we made to the Rigi- 
Kulm to see an Alpine sunrise. 




CHAPTER XXX. 

AN hour's sail brought us to Lucerne again, I judged it 
best to go to bed and rest several davs, for 1 knew that 
the man who undertakes to make the tour of Europe on foot 
must take care of himself. 

Thinking over my phms, as mapped out, I perceived that 
tliey did not take in the Furka Fas.-, the Rhone Glacier, the: 
Finsteraarhorn, the Wetterhorn, etc. 1 immediately exam- 
ined the guide-book to see if these were important, and found, 
they were ; in fact, a pedestrian tour of Europe could not he 
complete without them. Of course that decided me at once 
to see them, for I never allow myself to do things by halves, 
or in a slurring, slip-shod way. 

I called in my agent and instructed him to go without de- 
lay and make a careful examination of these noted places, 
on foot, and bring me back a written report of the result, for 
insertion in my book. I instructed him to go to Hospenthal 
as quickly as possible, and make liis grand start from there ; 
to extend his foot expedition as far as the Giesbach fall, and' 
return to me from thence by diligence or mule. I told him, 
to take the courier with him. 

He objected to the courier, and with some show of reason,. 

since he was about to venture upon new and untried ground ; 

but I thought he might as well learn how to take care of the 

courier now as later, therefore I enforced my point. 1 said 

19 311 



312 TRAVELING BY PROXY. 

that the trouble, delay and inconvenience of traveling with 
a courier were balanced by the deep respect which a courier's 
presence commands, and 1 must insist that as much style be 
thrown into my journeys as possible. 

So the two assumed complete mountaineering costumes 
and departedo A week later they returned, pretty well used 
up, and my agent handed me the following 

Official Repokt 
Of a Visit to the Furha Region. By II. Harris, Agent. 

About 7 o'clock in the morning, with perfectly line 
weather, we started from Hospenthal, and arrived at the 
maison on the Furka in a little under quatre hours. The 
want of variety in the scenery from Hospenthal made the 
Tcalikahponeeka wearisome ; but let none be discouraged : no 
one can fail to be completely recomjpensee for his fatigue, 
when he sees, for the first time, the monarch of the Oberland, 
the tremendous Finsteraarhorn. A moment before all was 
dulness, but a jpas further has placed us on the summit of 
the Furka; and exactly in front of us, at a hojjow of only 
fifteen miles, this magnificent niountain lifts its snow-wreath- 
ed precipices into the deep blue sky. The inferior mount- 
ains on each side of the pass form a sort of frame for the 
picture of their dread lord, and close in the view so com- 
pletely that no other prominent feature in the Oberland is 
visible from this bong-a-hong \ nothing withdraws the atten- 
tion from the solitary grandeur of the Finsteraai'horn and 
the dependent spurs which form the abutments of the 
central peak. 

With the addition of some others, who were also bound 
for the Grimsel, we formed a large xhvJoj as we descended 
the steg which winds round the shoulder of a mountain 
toward the Rhone glacier. "We soon left the path and took 
to the ice ; and after wandet'ing amongst the crevasses un 
pen, to admire the wonders of these deep blue caverns, and 
hear the rushing of waters through their subglacial chan- 
nels, we struck out a course towards Vautre cote and crossed 



DEAD MAN'S LAKE. 



313 



the glacier successfully, a little above the cave from which 
the infant Rhone takes its first bound from under the grand 




SOURCE OF THK RHONE. 



precipice of ice. Half a mile below this we began to climb 
the flowery side of the Meienwand. One of our party start- 
ed before the rest, but the Ilitze was so great, that we found 
ihm quite exhausted, and lying at full length in the shade 
of a large Gestein. We sat down with him for a time, for 
all felt the heat exceedingly in the climb up this very steep. 
holwoggoly, and then we set out again together, and arrived 
at last near the Dead Man's Lake, at the foot of the Sidel- 
horn. This lonely spot, once used for an extempore bury- 
ing place, after a sanguinary battue betwee^i the French and 
Austrians, is the perfection of desolation : there is nothing 
in siglit to mark the hand of man, except the line of weather- 
beaten whitened posts, set up to indicate the direction of 
the pass in the owdawakk of winter. Near this point the 
footpath joins the wider track, which connects the Grimsel 



314 



A TIMELY SHELTER. 



with the head of the Rhone sohnawp : this has been care- 
fully constructed, and leads with a tortuous course among 
and over les pierres, down to the bank of the gloomy little 
swosh-swosk, which almost washes against the walls of ihe 
Grimsel Hospice. We arrived a little before 4 o'clock at the 
end of our day's journey, hot enough to justify the step, taken 
by most oi the partie, of plunging into the crystal water of 
the snow-fed lake. 

The next afternoon we started for a walk up the Unteraar 
glacier, with the intention of, at all events, getting as far as 
the Hutte which is used as a sleeping place by most of those 
who cross the Strahleck Pass to Grindelwald. We got over 
the tedious collection of stones and debris which covers the 
yied of the Gletcher, and had walked nearly three hours 
from the Grimsel, when, just as we were thinking of cross- 
ing over to the right, to climb the cliffs at the foot of the 
hut, the clouds, which had for some time assumed a threaten- 
ing appearance, suddenly dropped, and a huge mass of them, 
driving towards us from the Finsteraarhorn, poured down a 




A r.LACIER TABLE. 



deluge of hdhoolong and hail. Fortunately, we were not far 
from a very large glacier table ; it was a huge rock balanced 
on a pedestal of ice high enough to admit of our all creeping 



THUNDER STORM IN THE MOUNTAIN. 315 

under it for gowkardk. A stream of puckitty^pukk had fur- 
rowed a course for itself in the ice at its base, and we were 
obliged to stand with one Fuss on each side of this, and en- 
deavour to keep ourselves chaud by cutting steps in the steep 
bank of the pedestal, so as to get a higher place for standing 
on, as the wasser rose rapidly in its trench. A very cold 
hzzzzzzzzeeeee accompanied the storm, and made our position 
far from pleasant ; and presently came a flash of Blitzen, 
apparently in the middle of our little party, with an instan- 
taneous clap of yokky, sounding like a large gun fired close 
to our ears: the effect was startling; but in a few seconds 
our attention was lixed by the roaring echoes of the thunder 
against the tremendous mountains which completely sur- 
rounded us. This was followed by many more bursts, none 
of welche, however, was so dangerously near ; and after 
waiting a long demi-\\o\iY in our icy prison, we sallied out 
to walk through a haboolong which, though not so heavy as 
before, was quite enough to give us a thorough soaking 
before our arrival at the Hospice. 

The Grimsel is certainement a wonderful place ; situated 
at the bottom of a sort of huge crater, the sides of Mdiich are 
utterly savage Gebirge, composed of barren rocks which can- 
not even support a single pine arbre, and afford only scanty 
food for a herd of gmwkwllolp^ it looks as if it must be com- 
pletely hegrahen in the winter snows. Enormous avalanches 
fall against it every spring, sometimes covering everything 
to the depth of thirty or forty feet ; and, in spite of walls 
four feet thick, and furnished with outside iron shutters, the 
two men who stay here when the voyageurs are snugly quar- 
tered in their distant homes can tell you that the snow some- 
times shakes the house to its foundations. 

Next morning the hogqlebumgullup still continued bad, but 
we made up our minds to go on, and make the best of it. Half 
an hour after we started, the Eegen thickened unpleasantly, 
and we attempted to get shelter under a projecting rock, but 
being far too 'nass already to make standing at all agreeable, 
we pushed on for the Handeck, consoling ourselves with the 



316 A TRICK OF THE TRADE. 

reflection that from the furious rushing of the river Aar at 
our side, we should at all events see the celebrated Wasserfall 
in grande perfection. Nor were we najpjpersocket in our ex- 
pectation ; the water was roaring down its leap of 250 feet in 
a most magnificent frenzj, while the trees which cling to its 
rocky sides swayed to and fro in the violence of the hurricane 
which it brought down with it : even the stream, which falls 
into the main cascade at right angles, and toutfois forms a 
beautiful feature in the scene, was now swollen into a raging 
torrent ; and the violence of this " meeting of the waters," 
about fifty feet below the frail bridge where we stood, was 
fearfully grand. While we were looking at it, glucTdicheweise 
a gleam of sunshine came out, and instantly a beautiful rain- 
bow was formed by the spray, and hung in mid air suspended 
over the awful gorge. 

On going into the chalet above the fall, we were informed 
that a BrilcTce had broken down near Guttanen, and that it 
would be impossible to proceed for some time: accordingly 
we were kept in our drenched condition for eine Stiinde, when 
some voyageurs arrived from Meyringen, and told us that 
there had been a trifling accident, aben that we could now 
cross. On arriving at the spot, I was much inclined to sus- 
pect that the whole story was a ruse to make us slowwk and 
drink the more in the Handeck Inn, for only a few plankB 
had been carried away, and though there might perhaps have 
been some difliculty with mules, the gap was certainly not 
larger than a mmhglx might cross with a very slight leap. 
Near Guttanen the hahoolong happily ceased, and M^e had 
time to walk ourselxes tolerably dry before arriving at Reich- 
enbacli, wo we enjoyed a good dine at the Hotel des Alps. 

Next morning we walked to Rosenlaui, the heau ideal of 
Swiss scenery, where we spent the middle of the day in an 
excursion to the glacier. This was more beautiful than words 
can describe, for in the constant progress of the ice it has 
changed the form of its extremity and formed a vast cavern, 
as blue as the sky above, and rip])led like a frozen ocean. A 
few st«ps cut in the whooipjainhoreehoo enabled us to walk 



ROSENLAUI TO GRINDELWALD. 



317 



completely under this, and feast our eyes upon one of the 
loveliest objects in 
creation. The gla- 
cier was all around 
divided by number- 
less fissures of the 
same exquisite col- 
our, and the finest 
wood-^ r dheeren 
were growing in 
abundance but a 
few yards from the 
ice. The inn stands 
in a charmant spot 
close to the cote de 
la riviere, which 
lower down, forms 
the Reichenbach 
fall, and embosomed 
in the richest of 
pinewoods, while 
the fine form of the 
Wellhorn looking 
down upon it com- 
pletes the enchant- 
ing hopple. In the 
afternoon we walk- 
ed over the Great ^^ 
Scheideck to Grind- **^ 
elwald, stopping to 
pay a visit to the 
Upper glacier by 
the way ; but we 
were again over- 
taken by bad hogg- 




GLACtEB OP GRnSTDELWALD. 



lehumgullup and arrived at the hotel in solche a state that 
the landlord's wardrobe was in great request. 



318 FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 

The clouds by this time seeiried to have done their worst, 
for a lovely day succeeded, whicli we detenniiied to devote 
to an ascent of the Faulhorn. We left Grindelwald just is 
a thunderstorm was dying away, and we hoped to find guUn 
Wetter up above; but the rain, which had nearly ceased, be- 
gan again, and we were struck by the rapidly increasingyVo^'c? 
as we ascended. Tw^o thirds of the way up were completed 
when the rain was exchanged for gnillic, with which the Bo- 
den was thickly covered, and before we arrived at the top the 
gnillic and mist became so thick that we could not see one 
another at more than twenty ])oojpoo distance, and it became 
difficult to pick our way over the rough and thickly covered 
ground. Shivering with cold w'e turned into bed with a 
double allowance of clothes, and slept comfortably w-hile the 
wind howled autour de la Tiiaison : when 1 awoke, the wall 
and the window^ looked equally dark, but in another hour I 
found I could just see the form of the latter ; so I jumped 
out of bed, and forced it open, -though with difficulty from 
the frost and the quantities of gnillic heaped up against it. 

A row of huge icicles hung down from the edge of the 
roof, and anything more wintry than the whole Anlliek could 
not well be imagined ; but the sudden appearance of the 
great mountains in front was so startling that I felt no in- 
clination to move towards bed again. The snow which had 
collected x^^ion la fenetre \\Q.d increased \\\q Finsterniss oder 
der Dunkelheit^ so that when I looked out I was surprised to 
find that the daylight was considerable, and that the halra- 
goomah would evidently rise before long. Only the bright- 
est of les etoiles were still shining ; the sky w^as cloudless over- 
head, though small curling mists lay thousands of feet below 
us in the valleys, wreathed around the feet of the moun- 
tains, and adding to the splendor of their lofty summits. "We 
were soon dressed and out of the house, watching the gradual 
approach of dawn, thoroughly absorbed in the first near view^ 
of tlie Oberland giants, which broke upon us unexpectedly 
after the intense obscurity of the evening before. '■'■Kahaug- 



THE PEAKS ILLUMINATED. 



319 



wahho songwashee Kuni Wetterhorn snawpo ! " cried some one, 
as that grand summit gleamed witli tlie first rose of dawn : 
and in a few moments the double crest of the Schreckhorn 
followed its example ; peak after peak seemed warmed with 
life, the Jungfrau blushed even more beautifully than her 




DAWN ON THE MOUNTAINS. 



neighbors, and soon, from the Wetterhorn in the East to the 
Wildstrubel in the West, a long row of fires glowed upon 
mighty altars, truly worthy of the gods. The wlgw was very 
severe ; our sleeping place could hardly be distinguee from 
the snow around it, which had fallen to the depth of afiirk 
during the past evening, and we heartily enjoyed a rough 
scramble en has to the Giesbach falls, where we soon found a 
warm climate. At noon the day before at Grindelwald the 
thermometer could not have stood at less than 100° Fahr. in 
the sun ; and in the evening, judging from the icicles form- 
ed, and the state of the wn'ndows, there must have been at 
least twelve dinglJaiter of frost, thus giving a change of 80*^ 
durint? a few hours. 



320 ^^ EXPLANATION REQUIRED. 

I said, — 

"You have done well, Harris; this report is concise, com- 
pact, well expressed; the language is crisp, the descriptions, 
are vivid and not needlessly elaborated ; your report goes 
straight to the point, attends strictly to business, and doesn't 
fool around. It is in many ways an excellent document. But 
it has a fault, — it is too learned, it is much too learned. "What 
is *■ dinghlatterV " 

"Dingblatter is a Fiji word meaning 'degrees.'" 

" You knew the English of it, then ? " 

" O, yes." 

" What is ' gnillic ? ' " 

" That is the Esquimaux term for ' snow.'" 

" So you knew the English for that, too ? " 

"Why certainly." 

" What does ' mmbglx ' stand for ? " 

" That is Zulu for pedestrian." 

"'While the form of the Wellhorn looking down upon it 
completes the enchanting ' hopjple? What is ' hopjplef ' " 

" Picture. It's Choctaw." 

"What is ^schnaivpf" 

" Valley. That is Clioctaw, also." 

" What is holwoggoly 1 ' " 

"That is Chinese for 'hill.'" 

" Kalikaajponeeka ? " 

"Ascent. Choctaw." 

"But we were again overtaken by' bad Tiogglebumgullujp^ 
What does hogglebumgullup mean ? " 

" That is Chinese for ' weather.' " 

" Is hogglebumgullup better than the English \vord ? Is 
•t any more descriptive ? " 

"No, it means just the same." 

" And dingblatter and gnillic, — and bopple, and schnawp, 
— are they better than the English words \ " 

" No, they mean just what the English ones do ? " 

" Then why do you use them ? Wliy have you used all 
this Chinese and Choctaw and Zulu rubbish ?" 



CRITICISM ON THE REPORT. 321 

" Because I didn't know any French but two or three words, 
and I didn't know any Latin or Greek at all." 

"That is nothing. Why should you want to use foieign 
words, anyhow ? " 

" To adorn iny page. They all do it." 

" Who is ' all? ' " 

" Everybody. Everybody that writes elegantly. Any- 
body has a right to that wants to." 

"I think you are mistaken." I then proceeded in the fol- 
lowing scathing manner. " When really learned men write 
books for other learned men to read, they are justified in 
using as many learned words as they please — their audience 
will understand them ; but a man who writes a book for the 
general public to read is not justified in disliguring his pages 
with untranslated foreign expressions. It is an insolence to- 
ward the majority of the purchasers, for it is a very frank and 
impudent way of saying, ' Get the translations made yourself 
if you want them, this book is not written for the ignorant 
classes.' There are men who know a foreign language so well 
and have used it so long in their daily life that they seem to 
discharge whole volleys of it into their English writings un- 
consciously, and so they omit to translate, as much as half 
the time. That is a great cruelty to nine out of ten of the 
man's readers. What is the excuse for this ? The writer 
would say he only uses the foreign language where the deli- 
cacy of his point cannot be convej'^ed in English. Yery well, 
then he writes his best things for the tenth man, and he ought 
to warn the other nine not to buy his book. However, the 
excuse he offers is at least an excuse ; but there is another 
set of men who are like you : they know a word here and 
there, of a foreign language, or a few beggarly little three- 
word phrases, filched from the back of the Dictionary, and 
these they are continually peppering into their literature, with 
a pretense of knowing that language, — wliat excuse can they 
offer? The foreign words and phrases which they use have 
their exact equivalents in a nobler language,— English; yet 



322 



THE REPORT ACCEPTED. 



tliey tliiuk they " adorn their page " when they say Strasse 
for street, and BaJmhof for railway station, and so on, — 
flaunting tiiese fluttering rags of poverty in the reader's face 
and imagining he will be ass enough to take them for the sign 
of untold riches held in reserve. I will let your 'learning' 
remain in your report ; you have as much right, 1 suppose, 
to 'adorn your page' with Zulu and Chinese and Choctaw 
rubbish, as others of your sort have to adorn theirs with in- 
solent odds and ends sraouched from half a dozen learned 
tongues whose a-b ahs they don't even know." 

When the musing spider steps upon the red-hot shovel, he 
first exhibits a wild surprise, then he shrivels up. Similar 
was the effect of these blistering words upon the tranquil and 
unsuspecting Agent. I can be dreadfully rough on a person 
when the mood takes me. 




CHAPTER XXXI. 

WE now prepared for a considerable walkj — from Lu- 
cerne to Interlaken, over the Briinig Pass, But at 
the last moment the weather was so good that I changed my 
mind and hired a four-horse carriage. It was a huge vehicle, 
roomy, as easy in its motion as a palanquin, and exceedingly 
comfortable. 

We got away pretty early in the morning, after a hot break- 
fast, and went bowling along over a hard, smooth road, 
through the summer loveliness of Switzerland, with near and 
distant lakes and mountains before and about us for the en- 
tertainment of the eye, and the mnsic of raultitudinons birds 
to charm the ear. Sometimes there w^as only the width of 
the road between the imposing precipices on the right and 
the clear cool water on the left with its shoals of uncatchable 
fishes skimming about throngh the bars of sun and shadow ; 
and sometimes, in place of the precipices, the grassy land 
stretched away, in an apparently endless upward slant, and 
was dotted everywhere with snng little chalets, the peculiarly 
captivating cottage of Switzerland. - 

The ordinary chalet turns a broad, honest gable end to the 
road, and its ample roof hovers over the home in a protect- 
ing caressing way, projecting its sheltering eaves far outward. 
The quaint windows are filled with little panes, and garnish- 
ed with white muslin curtains, and brightened with boxes of 

323 



324 



CONTRAST IN BUILDINGS. 



blooming flowers. Across the front of the house, and up the 
spreading eaves and along the fanciful railings of the shallow 
porch, are elaborate carvings, — wreaths, fruits, arabesques, 
verses from Scripture, names, dates, etc. The building is 
wholly of wood, reddish brown in tint, a vei-j pleasing color. 
It generally has vines climbing over it. Set such a house 
against the fresh green of the hillside, and it looks ever so 
cosy and inviting and picturesque, and is a decidedly graceful 
addition to the landscape. 

One does not find out what a hold the chalet has taken 
upon him, until he presently comes upon a new house,— a 
house which is aping tlie town fashions of Germany and 




NEW AND OLD STYLE. 

France, a prim, hideous, straight-up-and-down thing, plaster- 
ed all over on the outside to look like stone, and altogether 
60 stiff, and formal, and ugly and forbidding, and so oht of 
tune with the gracious landscape, and so deaf and dumb and 
dead to the poetry of its surroundings, that it suggests an un- 
dertaker at a picnic, a corpse at a wedding, a puritan in Para- 
dise. 

In the course of the morning we passed the spot where 
Pontius Pilate is said to have thrown himself into the lake. 
The legend goes that after the Crucifixion his conscience 
troubled him and he fled from Jerusalem and wandered about 
the earth, weary of life and a prey to tortures of the mind. 



THE BIRTHPLACE OF SANTA GLAUS. 



325 



Eventually Le bid himself away, on the heights of Mount 
Pilatus, and dwelt alone among tlie clouds and crags for years ; 
but rest and peace were still denied him, so he finally put an 
end to his misery by drowning himself. 

Presently we passed the place where a man of bettei 
odor was born. This was the children's friend, Santa Claus, 

or St. Nicholas. 



There are some 
unaccountable 
reputations in 
the world. This 
saint's is an in- 
stance. He has 
ranked forages 
as the peculiar 
friend of chil- 
dren, yet it ap- 
pears he was 
not much of a 
friend to his 
own. He had 
ten of them, 
and when fifty 
years old he left 
them, and sought out as dismal a 
refuge from the wo*ld as possible 
and 1 ecame a hermit in order 
that he might retiect upon pious 
themes without being disturbed 
by the joyous and other noises 
from the nursery, doubtless. 

Judging by Pilate and St. 
Nicholas, there exists no rule for 
the construction of hermits : they 
ST. NICHOLAS, THE HERMIT. scem made out of all kinds oi 
material. But Pilate attended to the matter of expiating his 
sin while lie was alive, whereas St. Nicholas will probably 




326 



A FASTING HERMIT. 



have to go on climbing down sooty chimneys, Christmas 
Eve, forever, and conferring kindness on other people's chil- 
dren, to make up for deserting his own. His bones are kept 

in a church in a 
village (Sachsein,) 
'wliich we visited, 
and are naturally 
held in great rev- 
erence. His por- 
trait is common in 
the farm houses of 
the region, but is 
be'ieved by many 
to be but an indif- 
ferent likeness. 
Daring his hermit 
life, according to 
the legend, he par- 
took of the bread 
and wine of the 
coiiiniunion once a 
month, but all the 
I'est of the month 
he f.isted. 

A constant mar- 
vel with us, as we 
sped along the ba- 
ses of the steep 
mountains on this 
joui-ney, was, not 
hat avalanches oc- 
cur, but that they 
are not occurring 
all the time. One does not understand why rocks and land- 
slides do not plunge down these declivities daily. A landslip 
occurred three quarters of a century ago, on the route from 




A LAND'ST.IDE. 



DISASTROUS LANDSLIDE. 



327 



Arth to Bninnen, which was a formidable thing. A mass of 
conglomerate two miles long, a thousand feet broad and a 




GOLDAtr VALLEY BEFORE AND AFTER THE LANDSLIDE. 

hundred feet thick, broke away from a cliff three thousand 
feet higli and hnrled itself into the valley below, burying 
four villages and five hundred peop. % as in a grave. 
20 



328 AN OVERSTOCK OF REFRESHMENTS. 

We liad such a beautiful day, and such endless pictures of 
limpid lakes, and green hills and vallejs, and majestic moun- 
tains, and milky cataracts dancing doMn the steeps and gleam- 
ing in the sun, that we could not help feeling sweet toward 
all the world ; so we tried to drink all the milk, and eat all 
the grapes and apricots and berries, and buy all the bouquets 
of wild flowers which the little peasant boys and girls oflered 
for sale ; but we had to retire from this contract, for it was 
too heavy. At short distances, — and they were entirely too 
short, — all along the road, were groups of neat and comely 
children, with their wares nicely and temptingly set forth in 
the grass under the shade trees, and as soon as we approached 
tliey swarmed into the road, holding out their baskets and 
milk bottles, and ran beside the carriage, barefoot and bare- 
headed, and importuned us to buy. They seldom desisted 
early, but continued to run and insist, — beside the wagon 
while they could, and behind it until they lost breath. Then 
they turned and chased a returning carriage back to their 
trading post again. After several hours of this, without any 
intermission, it becomes almost annoying. I do not know 
what we should h ive done without the returning carriages to 
draw off the pursuit. However, there were plenty of these, 
loaded with dusty tourists and piled hijih with luggage. In- 
deed, from Lucerne to Interlaken we had the spectacle, among 
other scenery, of an unbroken procession of fruit pedlars and 
tourist carriages. 

Our talk was mostly anticipatory of what we should see on 
the down grade of the Briinig, by and by, after we should 
pass the summit. All our friends in Lucerne had said tliat 
to look down upon Meiringen, and the rushing blue-gray 
river Aaar, and tlie broad level green valley ; and across at 
the mighty Alpine precipices that rise straight up to the 
clouds out of that valley ; and up at the microscopic chalets 
perched upon tlie dizzy eaves of those precipices and winking 
dimly and fitfully through the drifting veil of vapor; and 
still up and up, at tlie superb OltscMhach and the other beau- 
tiful cascades that leap from those rugged heights, robed in 



THE WAY THEY DO IT. 329 

powdery spray, ruffled with foam, and girdled with rainbows 
— to look upon these things, they said, was to look upon the 
last possibility of the sublime and the enchanting. There- 
fore, as I say, we talked mainly of these coming wonders ; if 
we were conscious of any impatience, it was to get there in 
favorable season ; if we felt any anxiety, it was that the day 
might remain perfect, and enable us to see those marvels at 
their best. 

At we approached the Kaiserstuhl, a part of the harness 
gave way. We were in distress for a moment, but only a 
moment. It was the fore-and-aft gear that was broken, — 
the thing that leads aft from the forward part of the horse 
and is made fast to the thing that pulls the wagon. In 
America this would have been a heavy leathern strap; but, 
all over the continent it is nothing but a piece of rope the 
size of your little lioger, — clothes-line is what it is. Cabs 
use it, private carriages, freight carts and wagons, all sorts 
of vehicles have it. In Munich I afterwards saw it used 
on a long wagon laden with lifty-four half-barrels of beer ; 
I had before noticed that the cabs in Heidelberg used it ; — 
not new i-ope, but rope that had been in use since Abraham's 
time, — and I had felt nervous, sometimes, behind it when the 
cab was tearing down a hill. But I had long been accustomed 
to it now, and had even become afraid of the leather strap 
which belonged in its place. Our driver got a fresh piece of 
clothes-line out of his locker and repaired the break in two 
minutes. 

So much for one European fashion. Every country haB 
its own ways. It may interest the reader to know how they 
" put horses to" on the continent. The man stands up the 
horses on each side of the thing that projects from the froitt 
end of the wagon, and then throws the tangled mess of gear 
on top of the horses, and passes the thing that goes for- 
ward, through a ring, and hauls it aft, and passes the other 
thing through the other ring and hauls it aft on the other 
side of the other horse, opposite to the first one, after cross- 
ing them and bringing the loose end back, and then buckles 



330 



A DIFFICULT OPERATION. 



the other thing underneath the liorse, and takes anotner thing 
and wraps it around the thing I spoke of before, and puts 
another thing over each liorse's head, with broad flappers to 
it to keep the dust out of his eyes, and puts the iron thing 
in his mouth for him to grit his teeth on, up hill, and 




THK ^VA^ TiIFY DO IT. 

brings the ends of these things aft over his back, after buck- 
ling another one around under his neck to hold his head up, and 
hitching another thing on a thing that goes over his shoulders 
to keep his head up when he is climbing a hill, and then 
takes the slack of the thing which I mentioned a while ago, 
and fetches it aft and makes it fast to the thing that pulls 
the wagon, and hands the other things up to the driver to 
steer with. I never have buckled up a horse myself, but I 
do not think we do it that way. 

We had four very handsome horses, and the driver was 
very proud of his turn-out. He would bowl along on a 
reasonable trot, on the highway, but when he entered a 



A GREAT MAN. 



331 



village he did it on a furious run, and accompanied it with a 
frenzy of ceaseless whip crackings that sounded like volleys 
of musketry. He tore through the narrow* streets and 
around the sharp curves like a moving earthquake, shower- 
ing his volleys as he went, and before him swept a continu- 
ous tidal wave of scampering children, ducks, cats, and 
mothers clasping babies which they had snatched out of the 
way of the coming destruction ; and as this living wave 
washed aside, along the walls, its elements, being safe, forgot 
their fears and turned theiradmiring gaze upon that gallant 

driver till he thun- 
dered around the 
next curve and was 
lost to sight. 

lie was a great 
man to tho se vil- 
lagers, with his 
gaudy clothes 
and his terrific ways. 
"Whenever he stop- 
ped to have his cattle 
watered and fed 
with loaves of bread, 
the villagers stood 
around admiring 
him while he swag- 
gered about, the lit- 
tle boys gazed up at 
his face with hum- 
ble homage, and 
the landlord brought 
OUR GALLANT DRIVER. out f oauilng mugs of 

beer and conversed proudly with him while he drank. Then 
he mounted his lofty box, swung his explosive whip, and 
away he went again, like a storm. 1 had not seen anything 
like this before since I was a boy, and the stage used to flour- 
ish through the village with the dust flying and the horn 
tootina;. 




332 HONORS TO A HERO. 

When we reached the base of the Kaiserstuhl, we took two 
more horses ; we had to toil along with difficulty for an hour 
and a halt" or two hours, for the ascent was not very gradual, 
but when we passed the backbone and approached the station, 
the driver surpassed all his previous efforts in the way of rush 
and clatter. He could not have six horses all the time, so he 
made the most of his chance while lie had it. 

Up to this point we had been in the heart of the William 
Tell region. The hero is not foi'gotten, by any means, or 
held in doubtful veneration. His wooden image, with his 
bow drawn, above the doors of taverns, was a frequent fea- 
ture of the scenery. 

About noon we arrived at the foot of the Briinig pass, and 
made a two-hour stop at the village hotel, another of those 
clean, pretty and thoroughly well kept inns which are such 
an astonishment to people who are accustomed to hotels of a 
dismally different pattern in remote country towns. There 
was a lake here, in the lap of the great mountains, the green 
slopes that rose toward the lower crags were graced with 
scattered Swiss cottages nestling among miniature farms and 
gardens, and from out a leafy ambuscade in the upper heights 
tumbled a brawling cataract. 

Carriage after carriage, laden with tourists and trunks, ar- 
rived, and the quiet hotel was soon populous. We were early 
at the table d'hote and saw the people all come in. There 
were twentj^-iive, perhaps. They were of various nationali- 
ties, but we were the only Americans. Next to me sat an 
English bride, and next to her sat her new husband, whom 
slie called " Neddy," though he was big enough and stalwart 
enough to be entitled to his full name. They had a pretty 
little lover's quarrel over what wine they should have. Ned- 
dy was for obeying the guide-book and taking the wine of 
the country ; but the bride said, — 

" What, that nahsty stuff! " 

" It isn't nahsty. Pet, it's quite good." 

" It is nahsty." 




TUE MOUNTAIN PASS. 



A THIRSTY BRIDE. 



333 



"No, it isnH nahsty." 

" It's of 111 nahsty, ITeddy, and I shanh't drink it." 

Tlien the question was, what she must havg. She said he 
knew very well that she 
never drank anything 
but champaign. She 
added, — • 

" You know very well 
papa always has cham- 
paign on his table, and 
I've always been used 
to it." 

Neddy made a play- 
ful pretense of being 
distressed about the ex- 
pense, and this amused 
her so much that she 
nearly exhausted h.-r- 
self with laughter, — 
and this pleased him so 
much that he repeated 
his jest a couple of times, and added new and killing varie- 
ties to it. When the bride finally recovered, she gave Neddy 
a love-box on the arm with her fan, and said with arch sever- 
ity,— 

"Well, you would have me, — nothing else- would d'o, — so 
you'll have to make the best of a bad bargain. J?6> order the 
champaign, I'm oful dry." 

So with a mock groan which made her laughiagain, Neddy 
ordered the champaign. 

The fact that this young woman had never moistened the 
selvedge edge of her soul with a less plebeian tipple than- 
champaign, had a marked and subduing effect upon BTarrisi. 
He believed she belonged to the royal family. But 1 had. my 
doubts. 




1 M OFUI. DRT. 



334 



A GERMAN TOILET ROOM. 



We heard two or three different languages spoken by peo- 
ple at the table and guessed out the nationalities of most of 
the guests to our satisfaction, but we failed with an elderly 
gentleman and liis wife and a young girl who sat opposite us, 

and with a gentleman of a- 
b o u t thirty -live who sat 
three seats beyond Harris. 
We did not hear any of 
these speak. But finally tiie 
last named gentleman left 
while we were not noticing, 
but we looked up as he 
reached the far end of the 
table. He stopped there, a 
moment, and made his toilet 
with a pocket comb. So he 
was a German ; or else he 
had lived in German hotels 
long enough to catch the 
fashion. When the elderly 
couple and the young girl 
rose to leave, they bowed 
it's the fashion. respectfully to us. So they 

were Germans, too. This national custom is worth six of 
the other one, for export. < 

After dinner we talked with several Englishmen, and they 
inflamed our desire to a hotter degree than ever, to see the 
sights of Meiringen from the heights of the Briinig pass. 
They said the view was marvelous, and that one who had 
seen it once could never forget it. They also spoke of the 
romantic nature of the road over the pass, and how in one 
place it had been cut through a flank of the solid rock, in 
such a way that the mountain overhung the tourist as he pass- 
ed by ; and they furthermore said that the sharp turns in the 
road, and the abruptness of the descent, would afford us a 
thrilling experience, for we should go down in a flying 




BUILDING CASTLES. 



335 






.Ov 



■r'^ 



\ 



gallop and seem to be spinning around the rings of a whirl- 
wind, like a drop of whisky descending the spirals of a cork- 
screw. I got all the information out of these gentlemen that 

we could need ; and then, to 
make every tiling complete, I 
asked them if a body could get 
hold of a little fruit and milk 
here and there, in case of ne- 
cessity. They threw up their 
hands in speechless intimation 
that the road was simply paved 
with refreshment pedlars. We 
were impatient to get away, 
now, and the 
restof our two- 
h o u r stop ra- 
ther dragged. 
But finally the 
set time arriv- 
ed and we be- 
gan the ascent. 
Indeed it was a 
wonderful 
road. It was 
smooth, and 
compact, and 
clean, and the 
side next the 
precipices was 
guarded all 
along by dress- 

WHAT WE EXPECTED. cd StOUC pOStS 

about three feet high, placed at short distances apart. The 
road could not have been better built if Kapoleon the First 
had built it. He seems to have been the introducer of the 
sort of roads which Europe now u?cs. All literature which 




336 SOLID COMFORT. 

describes life as it existed in England, France and Germany 
up to the close of the last century, is filled with pictures of 
coaches and carriages wallowing through these three countries 
in mud and slush half-wheel deep; but after ISIapoleon had 
floandered through a conquered kingdom he generally arrang- 
ed things so that the rest of the world could follow dry shod. 

We went on climbing, higher and higher, and curving hith- 
er and tliither, in the shade of noble woods, and with a rich 
variety and profusion of wild flowers all about us ; and glimp- 
ses of rounded grassy back-bones below us occupied by trim 
chalets and nibbling sheep, and other glimpses of far lower 
altitudes, where distance diminished the chalets to toys and 
obliterated the sheep altogether; and every now and then 
some ermined monarch of the Alps swung magnificently into 
view for a moment, then drifted past an intervening spur and 
disappeared again. 

It was an intoxicating trip, altogether ; the exceeding sense 

of satisfaction that follows a good dinner added largely to the 

enjoyment ; the having something especial to look forward 

to, and muse about, like the approacliing grandeurs of Meir- 

ingen, sharpened the zest. Smoking was never so good 

before, solid comfort was never solider ; we lay back against 

the thick cushions, silent, meditative, steeped in felicity. 
* * * * * 

I rubbed ray eyes, opened them, and started. I liad been 
dreaming I was at sea, and it was a thrilling surprise to wake 
up and find land all around me. It took me a couple of sec- 
onds to " come to," as you may say ; then I took in the sit- 
uation. The horses were drinking at a trough in the edge 
of a town, the driver was taking beer, Harris was snoring at 
my side, the courier, with folded arms and bowed head, was 
sleeping on the box, two dozen barefooted and bareheaded 
children were gathered about tlie carriage, Mnth their hands 
crossed behind, gazing up with serious and innocent admira- 
tion at the dozing tourists baking there in the sun. Seve- 
ral small girls held night-capped babies nearly as big as 



A BURST BUBBLE. 



339 



tliemi^^ elves in their arms, and even these fat babies seenied to 
take a sort of sluggish interest in us. 

We had slept an hour and a half and missed all the scenery I 
1 did not need anybody to tell me that. If I had been a girl, 
i could have cursed for vexation. As it was, 1 woke up the 
agent and gave him a piece of my mind. Instead of being 
humilitated, he only upbraided me for being so wanting in 
vigilance. He said he had expected to improve his mind by 
coining to Europe, but a man might travel to the ends of the 
earth with me and never see anything, for I w^as manifestly 
endowed with the very genius of ill luck. He even tried to 
get up some emotion about that poor courier, who never got 
a chance to see anything, on account of my heedlessness. 
But when I thought I had borne about enough of this kind 
of talk, I threatened to make Harris tramp back to the sum 
mit and make a report on that scenery, and this suggestion 
spiked his battery. 

We drove sullenly through Brienz, dead to the seductions 
of its bewildering array of Swiss carvings and the clamorous 
^<?o-hooing of its cuckoo clocks, and had not entirely recov- 
ered our spirits when we rattled across the bridge over the 
rushing blue river and entered the pretty town of Interlaken. 
It was just about sunset, and we had made the trip from Lu- 
cerne in ten hours. 




CHAPTEE XXXII. 

WE located ourselves at the Jungfrau Hotel, one of those 
huge establishments which the needs of modern 
travel have created in every attractive spot on the continent. 
There was a great gathering at dinner, and as usual one 
heard all sorts of languages. 

The table d'hote was served by waitresses dressed in the 
quaint and comely costume of the Swiss peasants. This con- 
sists of a simple gros de laine, trimmed with ashes of roses, 
with overskirt of sacre bleu ventre saint gris, cut bias on the 
off side, with facings of petit polonaise and narrow insertions 
of pate de fois gras backstitched to the raise en scene in the 
form of a jeu d'esprit. It gives to the wearer a singularly 
piquant and alluring aspect. 

One of these waitresses, a woman of forty, had side whis- 
kers reaching half way down her jaw. They were two 
fingers broad, dark in color, pretty thick, and the hairs were 
an inch long. One sees many women on the continent with 
quite conspicuous moustaches, but this was the only woman 
I saw who had reached the dignity of whiskers. 

After dinner the guests of both sexes distributed themselves 
about the front porches and the ornamental grounds belong- 
ing to the hotel, to enjoy the cool air; but as the twilight 
deepened toward darkness, they gathered themselves together 
in that saddest and solemnest and most constrained of all 

340 



A MUSICAL DISPLAY, 



341 



places, the great blank drawing room which is a chief feature 
of all contineiital summer hotels. There they grouped 
themselves about, in couples and threes, and mumbled in 
bated voices, and looked timid and homeless and forlorn. 

There was a small piano in this room, a clattery, wheezy, 
asthmatic thing, certainly the very worst miscarriage in the 
way of a piano that the world has seen. In turn, five or six 
dejected and homesick ladies approached it donbtingly, gave 
it a single inquiring thump, and retired with the lockjaw. 
But the boss of that instrument was to come, nevertheless; 
and from my own country, — from Arkansaw. She was a 
bran-new bride, innocent, girlish, happy in herself and her 
grave and worshiping stripling of a husband ; she was about 
eighteen, just out of school, free from affectations, uncon- 
scious of that passionless multitude around her; and the very 

first time she smote that 
•old wreck one recognized 
that it had met its des- 
tiny. Her stripling 
brought an armful of 
aged sheet music from 
their r o o m , — for this 
bride went " heeled," 
iSkfA'/^&s you might say, — and 
..^^^bent himself lovingly 
'over and got ready to 
turn the pages. 

The bride fetched a 
swoop with her fingers 
from one end of the key- 
board to the other, just 
to get her bearings, as it were, and you could see the congi-e- 
gation set their teeth with the agony of it. Then, without 
any more preliminaries, she turned on all the horrors of the 
" Battle of Prague," that venerable shivaree, and waded 
chin deep in the blood of the slain. She made a fair and 
honorable average of two false notes in every five, but her 




THE YOUNG BRIDE. 



342 



REVERENCE FOR PERFECTION. 



soul was in arms and she never stopped to correct. The 
audience stood it with pretty fair grit for a while, but when 
the cannonade waxed hotter and fiercer, and the discord- 
average rose to four in five, the procession began to move. 
A few stragglers held their ground ten minutes longer, but 
when the girl began to wring the true inwardness out of the 
" cries of tlie wounded," they struck their colors and retired 
in a kind of panic. 

There never was a completer victory; I was the only non- 
combatant left on the field. 1 would not have deserted my 
countrywoman anyhow, but indeed I had no desires in that 
direction. ^None of us like mediocrity, but we all reverence 




" IT WAS A FAMOUS VICTORY. 

perfection. This girl's music was perfection in its way ; it 
was the worst music that had ever been achieved on our 
planet by a mere human being. 

I moved up close, and never lost a strain. When she got 
♦through, I asked her to play it again. She did it with a 



A LOOK FROM MY WINDOW. 345 

pleased alacrity and aheiglitened enthusiasm. She made it 
all discords, this time. She got an amount of anguish into 
the cries of the wounded that shed a new light on human 
suffering. She was on the war path all the evening. All 
the time, crowds of people gathered on the porches and 
pressed their noses against the windows to look and marvel, 
but the bravest never ventured in. The bride went off sat- 
isfied and happy with her young fellow, when her appetite 
was finally gorged, and the tourists swarmed in again. 

What a change has come over Switzerland, and in fact all 
Europe, during this century. Seventy or eighty years ago 
Napoleon was the only man in Europe who could really be 
called a traveler; he was the only man who had devoted his 
attention to it and taken a powerful interest in it ; he was 
the cnly man who had traveled extensively ; but now every- 
body goes everywhere ; and Switzerland, and many othei 
regions which were unvisited and unknown remotenesses 
a hundred years ago, are in our days a buzzing hive of rest- 
less strangers every summer. But I digrr-ss. 

In the morning, when we looked out of our windows, we 
saw a wonderful sight. Across the valley, and apparently 
quite neighborly and close at hand, the giant form of the 
Jungfrau rose cold and white into the clear sky, beyond a 
gateway in the nearer highlands. It reminded me, somehow, 
of one of those colossal billows which swells suddenly up 
beside one's ship, at sea, sometimes, with its crest and shoul- 
ders SHOW}'' white, and the rest of its noble proportions 
streaked downward with creamy foam. 

I took out my sketch book and made a little picture of 
the Jungfrau, merely to get the shape : 

1 do not regard this as one of my finished works, in fact I 
do not rank it among my Works, at all; it is only a study ; 
it is hardly more than what one might call a sketch. Other 
artists have done me the grace to admire it ; but I am severe 
in my judgments of my own pictures, and this one does not 
move me. 



346 



ABOUT THE JUNGFRAU. 



It was hard to believe that that lofty wooded rampart on 
the left which so overtops the Jungfrau was not actually the 
higher of the two, but it was not, of course. It is only 2,000 
or 3,000 feet high, and of course has no 
snow upon it in sum- 




mer, whereas the Jungfrau is not much short of 14,000 feet 
high and therefore that lowest verge of snow^ — on her side, 
which seems nearly down to the valley level, is really about 
seven thousand feet higher up in the air than the summit of 
that wooded rampart. It is the distance that makes the de- 
ception. The wooded height is but four or five miles remov- 
ed from us, but the Jungfrau is four or live times that dis- 
tance away. 

Walking down the street of shops, in the forenoon, I was 
attracted by a large picture, carved, frame and all, from a 
single block of chocolate-colored wood. There are people 
who know everything. Some of these had told us that con- 
tinental shop-keepers always raise their prices on English 
and Americans. Many people had told us it was expensive 
to buy things through a courier, whereas I had supposed it 
was just the reverse. When I saw this picture I conject- 
ured that it was worth more than the friend I proposed to 
buy it for would like to pay, but still it was worth while to 
inquire ; so I told the courier to step in and ask the price, 



SHOPPING IN INTEKLAKEN. 347 

as if he wanted it for himself ; I told him not to speak in 
English, and above all not to reveal the fact that he v^^as a 
courier. Then I moved on a few yards, and Waited. 

The courier came presently and reported the price. I 
said to myself, " It is a hundred francs too much," and so 
dismissed the mtitter from my mind. But in the afternoon 
I was passing that place with Harris, and the picture attract- 
ed me again. We stepped in, to see how much higher 
broken German would raise the price. The shopwoman 
named a figure just a hundred francs lower than the courier 
had named. This was a pleasant surprise. I said I would 
take it. After I had given directions as to where it was to 
be shipped, the shopwoman said, appealingly, — 

" If you please, do not let your courier know you bought 
it." 

This was an unexpected remark. I said, — 

" What makes you think I have a courier? " 

"Ah, that is very simple ; he told me himself." 

" He was very thoughtful. But tell me, — why did you 
charge him more than you are charging me ? " 

"That is very simple, also : I do not have to pay you a 
percentage." 

"O, I begin to see. You would have had to pay the 
courier a percentage." 

" Undoubtedly. The courier always has his percentage. 
In this case it would have been a hundred francs." 

" Then the tradesman does not pay a part of it, — the pur- 
chaser pays all of it ? " 

" There are occasions when the tradesman and the courier 
agree upon a price which is twice or thrice the value of the 
article, then the two divide, and both get a percentage." 

" I see. But it seems to me that the purchaser does all 
the paying, even then." 

" O, to be sure ! It goes without saying." 

" But I have bought this picture myself ; therefore why 

shouldn't the courier know it ? " 
21 



348 ^ MYSTERY SOLVED. 

The woman exclaimed, in distress, — 
"All, indeed it would take all my little profit! He would 
come and demand his hundred francs, and I should have to 

pay-" 

" He has not done the buying. You could refuse." 

" I could not dare to refuse. He would never bring trav- 
elers here again. More than that, he would denounce me to 
the other couriers, they would divert custom from me, and 
my business would be injured." 

I went away in a thoughtful frame of mind. I began to 
see why a courier could afford to work for $55 a month and 
his fares. A month or two later I was able to understand 
why a courier did not have to pay any board and lodging, 
and why my hotel bills were always larger when I had him 
with me than when I left him behind, somewhere, for a few 
days. 

Another thing was also explained, now, apparently. In 
one town I had taken the courier to the bank to do the trans- 
lating when I drew some money. I had sat in the reading 
room till the transaction was finished. Then a clerk had 
brought the money to me in person, and had been exceed- 
ingly polite, even going so far as to precede me to the door 
and hold it open for me and bow me out as if I had been a 
distinguished personage. It was a new experience. Ex- 
change had been in my favor ever since I had been in Eu- 
rope, but just that one time. I got simply the face of my 
draft, and no extra francs, whereas I had expected to get 
quite a number of them. This was the first time I had ever 
used the courier at a bank. I had suspected something then, 
and as long as he remained with me afterward I managed 
bank matters by myself. 

Still, if I felt that I could afford the tax, I would never 
travel without a courier, for a good courier is a convenience 
whose value cannot be estimated in dollars and cents. "With- 
out him, travel is a bitter harassment, a purgatory of little 
exasperating annoyances, a ceaseless and pitiless punAshraent, 



NECESSITY FOR A COUEIER. 



851 



— I mean to an irascible man who has no business capacity 
and is confused by details. 

Without a courier, travel hasn't a ray of pleasure in it, any- 
where ; but with liim it is a continuous and unruffled delight. 
He is alw^ays at hand, never has to be sent for; if your bell 
is not answered promptly, — and it seldom is,- — you have only 
to open the door and speak, the courier will hear, and he will 
have the order attended to or raise an insurrection. You tell 
him what day you will start, and whither you are going, — 
leave all the rest to him. You need not inquire about trains, 
or fares, or car changes, or hotels, or anything else. At the 
proper time he will put you in a cab or an omnibus, and drive 
you to the train or the boat ; he has packed your lugL^aue 
and transferred it, he has paid all the bills. Other people have 




WITHOUT A COURIER. 

preceded you half an hour to scramble for impossible places 
and lose their tempers, but you can take your time, the cour- 
ier has secured your seats for you, and you can occupy them 
at your leisure. 

At the station, the crowd mash one another to pulp in the 
effort to get the weigher's attention to their trunks ; they 



352 



WITH A COURIER AND WITHOUT. 



dispute hotly with these tyrants, who are cool and indifferent ; 
they get their baggage billets, at last, and then jiave another 
squeeze and another rage over the disheartening business of 
trying to get them recorded and paid for, and still anothei- 
over the equally disheartening business of trying to get near 
enough to the ticket office to buy a ticket ; and now, with 
their tempers gone to the dogs, they must stand penned up 
and packed togetlier, laden with wraps and satchels and shawl 
straps, with the weary wife and babies, in the waiting room, 
till the doors are thrown open — and then all hands make a 
grand final rusli to the train, find it full, find have to stand 




TRAVELING WITH A COUKIEK. 



on the platform and fret until some more cars are put on. 
They are in a condition to kill somebody by this time. Mean- 
time you have been sitting in your car, smoking, and observ- 
ing all this misery in the extremest comfort. 

On the journey the guard is polite and watchful, — won't 
allow anybody to get into your compartment, — tells them you 



BENEFITS FROM A COURIER. 353 

are just recovering from tlie small-pox and do not like to be 
disturbed. For the courier has made everything right with 
the guard. At way stations the courier conies to jour com- 
partment to see if you want a glass of water, or a newspaper, 
or anything ; at eating stations he sends luncheon out to you, 
while the other people scramble and worry in the dining 
rooms. If anytliing breaks, about the car you are in, and a 
station master proposes to pack you and your Agent into a 
compartment with strangers, the couriei* reveals to him con- 
lidentially that you are a French duke born deaf and dumb, 
and the official comes and makes affable signs that he has or- 
dered a choice car to be added to the train for you. 

At custom houses the multitude file tediously through, hot 
and irritated, and look on while the officers burrow into the 
trunks and make a mess of everything; but you hand your 
keys to the courier and sit still. Perhaps you arrive at your 
destination in a rainstorm at ten at night, — you generally do. 
The multitude spend half an hour verifying their baggage 
and getting it transferred to the omnibuses ; but the courier 
puts you into a vehicle without a moment's loss of time, and 
when you reach your hotel you find your rooms have been 
secured two or three days in advance, everything is read}', 
you can go at once to bed. Some of those other people will 
have to drift around to two or three hotels, in the rain, be- 
fore they find accommodations. 

I have not set down half of the virtues that are vested in 
a good courier, but I think I have set down a sufficiency of 
them to sliow that an irritable man who can afford one and 
does not employ him, is not a wise economist. My courier 
was the worst one in Europe, yet he was a good deal better 
than none at all. It could not pay him to be a better one tlian 
he was, because I could not afford to buy things through him. 
He was a good enough courier for the small amount he got 
out of his service. Yes, to travel with a courier is bliss, to 
travel without one is the reverse. 

I have had dealings with some very bad couriers ; but I 



354 



AN EXCELLENT COURIER. 



have also bad dealings with one who might fairly be called 
perfection. He was a young Polander, named Joseph N. 
Verey. He spoke eight languages, and seemed to be equally 
at home in all of them ; he was shrewd, prompt, posted, and 
punctual ; he was fertile in resources, and singularly gifted in 
the matter of overcoming difficulties ; he not only knew how 
to do everything in his line, but he knew the best ways and 
the quickest ; he was handy with children and invalids ; all 
his employer needed to do was to take life easy and leave 
everything to the courier. His address is, care of Messrs. 
Gay & Son, Strand, .London ; he w^as formerly a conductor of 
Gay's tourist parties. Excellent couriers are somewhat rare ; 
if the reader is about to travel, he will find it to his advan- 
tao^e to make a note of this one. 




CHAPTER XXXIII. 

THE beautiful Giesbacli Fall is near Interlaken, on the 
other side of the lake of Brienz, and is. illuminated 
every night with those gorgeous theatrical fires whose name 
1 cannot call just at this moment. This was said to be a 
spectacle which the tourist ought by no means to miss. I 
was strongly tempted, but I could not go there with propriety, 
because one goes in a boat. The task which I had set myself 
was to walk over Europe on foot, not skim over it in a boat. 
I had made a tacit contract with myself; it was my duty to 
abide by it. I was willing to make boat trips for pleasure, 
but I could not conscientiously make them in the way of 
business. 

It cost me something of a pang to lose that fine siglit, 
but I lived down the desire, and gained in my self-respect 
through the triumph. I had a finer and a grander sight, 
however, where I was. This was the mighty dome of the 
Jungfrau softly outlined against the sky and faintly silvered 
by the starlight. There was something subduing in the in- 
fluence of that silent and solemn and awful presence ; one 
seemed to meet the immutable, the indestructible, the eternal, 
face to face, and to feel the trivial and fleeting nature of his 
own existence the more sharply by the contrast. One had 
the sense of being under the brooding contemplation of a 
spirit, not an inert mass of rocks and ice, — a spirit which had 
looked down, through the slow drift of the ages, upon a 
million vanished races of men, and judged them ; and would 
judge a million more, — and still be there, watching, unchang- 

355 



356 THE SPIRIT OF THE ALPS. 

ed and unchangeable, after all life should be gone and the 
earth have become a vacant desolation. 

While I was feeling these things, I was groping, without 
knowing it, toward an understanding of what the spell is 
which people find in the Alps, and in no other mountains, 
— that strange, deep, nameless influence, which, once felt, 
cannot be forgotten, — once felt, leaves always behind it a 
restless longing to feel it again, — a longing which is like 
homesickness; a grieving, haunting yearning, which will 
plead, implore, and persecute till it has its will. I met doz- 
ens of people, imaginative and unimaginative, cultivated and 
uncultivated, who had come from far countries and roamed 
through the Swiss Alps year after year, — they could not ex- 
plain why. They had come first, they said, out of idle curi- 
osity, because everybody talked about it ; they had come 
since because they could not help it, and they should keep 
on coming, while they lived, for the same reason ; they had 
tried to break their chains and stay away, but it was futile ; 
now, they had no desire to break them. Others came nearer 
formulating what tliey felt : they said they could find perfect 
rest and peace nowhere else when they were troubled : all 
frets and worries and chafings sank to sleep in the presence 
of the benignant serenity of the Alps ; the Great Spirit of 
the Mountain breathed his own peace upon their hurt minds 
and sore hearts, and healed them ; they could not think base 
thoughts or do mean and sordid things here, before the visi- 
ble throne of God. 

Down the road a piece was a Kursaal, — whatever that may 
be, — and we joined the human tide to see what sort of enjoy- 
ment it might afford. It was the usual open-air concert, in 
an ornamental garden, with wines, beer, milk, whey, grapes, 
etc., — the whey and the grapes being necessaries of life to cer- 
tain invalids whom physicians cannot repair, and who only 
continue to exist by tlie grace of whey or grapes. One of 
these departed spirits told me. in a sad and lifeless wa}'-, that 
there was no way for him to live but by whey ; never drank 
anything, now, but whey, and dearly, dearly loved whey, he 



NEW MEDICAL AGENTS. 



357 



didn't know whey he did, but he did. After making this 
pun he died, — that is the whey it served him. 

Some other remains, preserved, from decomposition by the 
grape system, told me that the grapes were of a peculiar breed, 
highly medicinal in their nature, and that they were counted 
out and administered by the grape-doctors as methodically as 
if they were pills. The new patient, if very feeble, began 
with one grape before breakfast, took three during breakfast, 
a couple between meals, five at luncheon, three in the after- 
noon, seven at dinner, four for supper, and part of a grape 
jast before going to bed, by way of a general regulator. The 
quantity was gradually and regularly increased, according to 
the needs and capacities of the patient, until by and by you 
would find him disposing of his one grape per second all the 
day long, and his regular barrel per day. 

He said that men cured in this way, and enabled to discard 
the grape system, never afterward got over the habit of talk- 
ing as if they were dictating to a slow amanuensis, because 




GRAPE AND WHET PATIENTS. 



they always made a pause between each two words while they 
sucked the substance out of an imaginary grape. He said 
these were tedious people to talk with. He said that men 
who had been cured "By the other process were easily distin- 
guished from the rest of mankind because they always tilted 



358 A FORMIDABLE ENTERPRISE CONCEIVED. 

their heads back, between every two words, and swallowed a 
swig of imaginary whey. He said it was an impressive thing 
to observe two men, who had been cured by the two processes, 
engaged in conversation, — said their pauses and accompany- 
ing movements were so continuous and regular that a stran- 
ger would think himself in the presence of a couple of auto- 
matic machines. One finds out a great many wonderful 
things, by traveling, if he stumbles upon the right person. 

I did not remain long at the Kursaal ; the music was good 
enough, but it seemed rather tame after the cyclone of that 
Arkansaw expert. Besides, my adventurons spirit had con- 
ceived a formidable enterprise — nothing less than a trip from 
Interlaken, by the Gemmi and Visp, clear to Zermatt, on 
foot ! So it was necessary to plan the details, and get ready 
for an early start. The courier (this was not the one I have 
just been speaking of,) thought that the portier of the hotel 
would be able to tell us how to find onr way. And so it turn- 
ed out. He showed us the whole thing, on a relief-map, and 
we could see our route, with all its elevations and depressions, 
its villages and its rivers, as clearly as if we were sailing over 
it in a balloon. A relief -map is a great thing. The portier 
also wrote down each day's journey and the nightly hotel on 
a piece of paper, and made our course so plain that we should 
never be able to get lost without high-priced outside help. 

I put the courier in the care of a gentleman who was going 
to Lausanne, and then we went to bed, after laying out the 
walking costumes and putting them into condition for instant 
occupation in the morning, * 

However, when we came down to breakfast at 8 a. m., it 
looked so much like rain that I hired a two-horse top-buggy 
for the first third of the journey. For two or three hours 
we jogged along the level road which skirts the beautiful lake 
of Thun, with a dim and dreamlike picture of watery ex- 
panses and spectral Alpine forms always before us, veiled in 
a mellowing mist. Then a steady down-pour set in, and hid 
everything but the nearest objects. We kept the rain out of 



A PAIR OF JOLLY DRIVERS. 359 

our faces with umbrellas, and away from our bodies with the 
leatlier apron of the buggy ; but the driver sat unsheltered 
and placidly soaked the weather in and seemed to like it. 
We had the road all to ourselves, and I never had a pleas- 
anter excursion. 

The weather began to clear while we were driving up a 
valley called the Kienthal, and presently a vast black cloud- 
bank in front of us dissolved away and uncurtained the grand 
proportions and the soaj-ing loftinesses of the Blumis Alp. 
It was a sort of breath taking surprise ; for we had not sup- 
posed there was anything behind that low-hung blanket of 
sable cloud but level valley. What we had been mistaking 
for fleeting glimpses of sky away aloft there, were really patch- 
es of the Bhimis's snowy crest caught through shredded rents 
in the drifting pall of vapor. 

We dined in the inn at Frutigen, and our driver ought to 
have dined there, too, but he would not have had time to dine 
and get drunk both, so he gave his mind to making a master- 
piece of the latter, and succeeded. A German gentleman 
and his two young lady daughters had been taking their noon- 
ing at the inn, and when they left, just ahead of us, it was 
plain that their driver was as drunk as ours, and as happy 
and good natured, too, which was saying a good deal. These 
rascals overflowed with attentions and information for their 
guests, and with brotherly love for each other. They tied 
their reins, and took ofi* their coats and hats, so that they 
might be able to give unencumbered attention to conversa- 
tion and to the gestures necessary for its illustration. 

The road was smooth ; it led up and over and down a con- 
tinual succession of hills ; but it was narrow, the horses were 
used to it, and could not well get out of it anyhow ; so why 
shouldn't the drivers entertain themselves and us ? The noses 
of our horses projected sociably into the rear of the forward 
carriage, and as we toiled up the long hills our driver stood 
up and talked to his friend, and his friend stood up and talked 
back to him, with his rear to the scenery. When the top 



360 



A CHEERFUL RIDE. 



was reached and we went flying down the other side, there 
was no change in the program. I carry in my memory yet, 
the picture of that forward driver, on his knees on his high 
seat, resting his elbows on its back, and beaming down on liis 




SOCIABLE DRIVERS. 

passengers, witli happy e^^e, and flying hair, and jolly red 
face, and off'ering his card to the old German gentleman while 
he praised his hack and horses and both teams were whizzing 
down a long hill with nobody in a position to tell whether 
we were bonnd to destruction or an undeserved safety. 

Toward sunset we entered a beautiful green valley dotted 
with chalets, a cosy little domain hidden awa}" from the bupy 
world in a cloistered nook among giant precipices topped 
with snowy peaks that seemed to float like islands above the 
curling surf of the sea of vapor that severed them from the 
lower world. Down from vague and vaporous heights, little 
ruffled zigzag milkj' currents came craM'ling, and found their 
way to the verge of one of those tremendous overhanging 



KANDERSTEG VALLEY. 



361 



walls, whence tliej plunged, a shaft of silver, shivered to 
atoms in mid-descent 
and turned to an airy 
puff of luminous dust. 
Here and there, in groov- 
ed depressions among the 
snowy desolations of the 
upper altitudes, one 
glimpsed the extremity of 
a glacier, with its sea- 
green and honey-combed 
battlements of ice. 

Up the valley, under a 
dizzy precipice, nestled 
the village of Kander- 
steg, our halting place 
for the night. We were 
soon there, and housed 
i n the hotel. But the 
waning day had such an ^'^^^M 

inviting influence that we ' 

did not remain housed 
many moments, but struck 
out and followed a roar- 
ing torrent of ice water 
up to its far source in a 
sort of little grass-carpet- 
ed piirlor, walled in all 
around by vast precipices 
and o\-erlooked by cluster- 
ing summits of ice. This 
was t li e snuggest little 
croquet ground imagina- 
ble; it was perfectly level, and not more than a mile long 
by half a mile wide. The walls around it were so gigantic, 
and everything about it was on so mighty a scale that it was 




A MOUNTAIN CASCADE. 



362 



AN ALPINE PARLOR. 



belittled, bj contrast, to what I have likened it to, — a cosy 
and carpeted parlor. It was so high above the Kandersteg 





|YI 



valley that there was noth- 
ing between it and the snow 
peaks. I had never been in 
such intimate relations with 
the high altitudes before; 
the snow peaks had always 
been remote and unapproachable grand- 
eurs, hitherto, but now v^e were hob-a- 
nob, — if one may use such a seemingly 
irreverent expression about creations so 
august as these. 

We could see the streams which fed 
the torrent we had followed issuing from 
under the greenish ramparts of glaciers ; 
l)ut two or three of these, instead of flowing over the preci- 
pices, sank down into the rock and sprang in big jets out of 
holes in the mid-face of the walls. 

The green nook which I have been describing is called the 
Gasternthal. The glacier streams gather and flow through 



THE GASTERNTHAL. 



EXERCISE AND AMUSEMENT. 



363 



it in a broad and rushing brook to a narrow cleft between 
loftj precipices ; here the rushing brook becomes a mad tor- 
rent and goes booming and thundering down toward Kan- 

dersteg, lashing and thrash- 
ing its way over and among 
moaster bowlders, and hurl- 
ing chance roots and logs a- 
bout like straws. There was 
no lack of cascades along 
thib route. The path by the 
bide of the torrent M^as so 
nil low that one had to look 
shaip, when he heard a cow 
I^X bell, and hunt for a place that 
was wide enough to accom- 
modate a cow and a Chris- 
tian side by side, and such 
places were not always to be 
h id at an instant's notice. 
The cows wear church bells, 
and that is a 
good idea in the 
cows, for where 
that torrent is, 
you couldn't 
hear an ordin- 
ary cow-bell any 
further than 
you could hear 
the ticking of a 
watch, 

I needed exer- 
cise, so I e m - 

BXHILARATING SPORT. ploVCd mV 

agent in setting stranded logs and dead trees adrift, and I sat 
on a bowlder and watched them go whirling and leaping head 




364 



A RACE WITH A LOG. 



over heels down the boiling torrent. It was a wonderfully 
exhilarating spectacle. When I had had exercise enough, I 
made the agent take some, by running a race with one of 
those logs. I made a trifle by betting on the log. 

After dinner we had a walk up and down the quiet Kan- 
dersteg valley, in the soft gloaming, with the spectacle of 
the dying lights of day playing about the crests and pinna- 
cles of the still and solemn upper realm for contrast, and 
text for talk. There were no sounds but the dulled com- 
plaining of the torrent and the occasional tinkling of a dis- 
tant bell. The spirit of the place was a sense of deep, per- 
vading peace ; one might dream his life tranquilly away 
there, and not miss it or mind it when it was gone. 

The summer departed with the sun, and winter came with 
the stars. It grew to be a bitter night in that little hotel, 
backed np against a precipice that had no visible top to it, 
but we kept warm, and woke in time in the morning to find 
that everybody else had left for the Gemmi three hours 
before, — so our little plan of helping that German family 
(principally the old man,) over the Pass, was a blocked 
generosity. 




CHAPTER XXXIV. 

WE hired the only guide left, to lead us on our way. 
He was over seventy, but he could have given me 
nine-tenths of his strength and still had all his age entitled 
him to. He shouldered our satchels, overcoats, and alpen- 
stocks, and we set out up the steep path. It was hot work. 
The old man soon begged us to hand over our coats and 
waistcoats to him to carry, too, and we did it : one could not 
refuse solittle a thing to a poor old man like that ; he should 
have had them if he had been a hundred and iifty. 

When we began that ascent, we could see a microscopic 
ehalet perched away up against heaven on what seemed to 
be the highest mountain near us. It was on our right, 
across the narrow head of the valley. But when we got up 
abreast it on its own level, mountains were towering high 
above on every hand, and we saw that its altitude was just 
about that of the little Gasternthal which we had visited the 
evening before. Still it seemed a long way up in the air, in 
that waste and lonely wilderness of rocks. It had an un- 
fenced grass-plot in front of it Avhich seemed about as big as 
a billiard table, and this grass plot slanted so sharply down- 
wards, and was so brief, and ended so exceedingly soon at 
the verge of the absolute precipice, that it was a shuddiery 
thing to think of a person's venturing to trust his foot on jin 
incline so situated at all. Suppose a man stepped on an 
22 365 



306 



A DANGEROUS HABITATION. 



orange peel in that yard : there Mould be nothing for him 
to seize; nothing could keep him from rolling; five revolu- 
tions v^ould bring him to the edge, and over he would go. 
What a frightful distance he would fall ! — for there are very 
few birds that fly as high as his starting-point. He would 
strike and bounce, two or three times, on his way down, but 
this would be no advantage to him. I would as soon take 
an airing on the slant of a rainbow as in such a front yard. 

I would rather, in 



fact, for the dis- 
tance down would 
be about the same, 
and it is pleasant- 
er to slide than to 
bounce. I could 
not see how the 
peasants got up 
to that cha'et, — the 
region seemed too 
steep for anything 
but a balloon. 

As we strolled on 
climbing up high- 
er and higiier, we 
were continually 
bringing neighbor- 
ing peaks into view 




■WHAT MIGHT BE. 



and lofty prominence which had been hidden behind lower 
peaks before ; so by and by, while standing before a group 
of these giants, we looked around for the chalet again : there 
it was, away down below us, apparently on an inconspicuous 
ridge in the valley ! It was as far below us, now, as it had 
been above us when we were beginning the ascent. 

After a while the path led us along a railed precipice, and 
we looked over — far beneath us was the snug parlor again, 
the little Ga^^ternthal, with its water jets spouting from the 



MOUNTAIN FLOWERS. 



367 



face of its rock walls. "We could have dropped a stone into 
it. We had been finding the top of the \\ orld all along — 
and always finding a still higher top stealing into view in a 
disappointing way just ahead : when we looked down into the 
Gasternthal we felt pretty sure that we had reached the 
genuine top at last, but it was not so; there were much 
higher altitudes to be scaled yet. We were still 
pleasant shade of 



forest t r e e s , we 
were still in a re- 
gion which was 
cushioned with 
beautiful mosses 
and aglow with 
the many-tinted 
lustre of innumer- 
able wild flowers. 
We found, i n- 
deed, more inter- 
est in the wild 
flowers than in 
anything else. 
W e gathered a 
specimen or two 
of ev.ery kind 
which we were 
unacquainted 
with ; so we had 
sumptuous b O U - an alpine bouquet. 

quets.^ But one of the chief interests lay in chasing the 
seasons of the year up the mountain, and determining them 
by the presence of flowers and berries which we were ac- 
quainted with. For instance, it was the end of August at 
the level of the sea; in the Kandersteg valley at the base of 
the Pass, we found flowers which would not be due at the sea 
level for two or three weeks ; higher up, we entered October, 




368 EMBRYO LIONS. 

and gathered fringed gentians. I made no notes, and have 
forgotten the details, but tlie construction of the floral calen- 
dar was very entertaining while it lasted. 

In the hi"-h regions we found rich store of the splendid red 
flower called the Alpine rose, but we did not And any exam- 
pigs of the ugly Swiss favurite called Edelweiss. Its name 
seems to indicate that it is a noble flower and that it is white. 
It may be noble enough, but it is not attractive, and it is not 
wdiite. The ^.izzy blossom is the color of bad cigar ashes, 
and appears to be made of a cheap quality of gray plush. It 
has a noble and distant way of confining itself to the high 
altitudes, but that is probably on account of its looks; it ap- 
parently has no monopoly of those upper altitudes, however, 
for they are sometimes intruded upon by some of the loveli- 
est of the valley families of wild flowers. Everybody in the 
Alps wears a sprig of Edelweiss in his hat. It is the native's 
pet, and also the tourist's. 

All the morning, as we loafed along, having a good time, 
otlier pedestrians went staving by us with vigorous strides, 
and with the intent and determined look of men who were 
walking for a wager. These wore loose knee-breeches, long 
yarn stockings, and hob-nailed high-laced walking shoes. 
They were gentlemen who would go home to England or Ger- 
many and tell how man)' miles they had beaten the guide- 
book every day. But I doubted if they ever had much real 
fun, outside- of the mere magniflcent exhilaration of the 
tramp through the green valleys and the breezy heights; for 
they were almost always alone, and even the finest scenery 
loses incalculably when there is no one to enjoy it with. 

All the morning an endless double procession of mu]e^ 
mounted tourists filed past us along the narrow path, — the 
one procession going, the other coming. We had taken a 
good deal of trouble to teach ourselves the kindly German 
custom of saluting all strangers with doffed hat, and we reso- 
lutely clung to it, that morning, although it kept us bare- 
headed most of the time and was not always responded to. 
Still we found an interest in the thing, because we naturally 



ELEVATED PIGS. 



369 



liked to know who were English and Americans among the 
passers-by. All continental natives responded, of course; 
so did some of the English and Americans, but as a general 
thing these two races gave no sign. Whenever a man or a 
woman showed us cold neglect, we spoke up confidently in 
our own tongue and asked for such infurmation as we hap- 
pened to need, and we always got a reply in the same language. 
The English and American folk are not less kindly than 
other races, they are only more reserved, and that comes of 
habit and education. In one dreary, rocky waste, away above 
the line of vegetation, we met a procession of tAventy-five 
mounted young men, all from America. We got answering 
bows enough from these, of course, for they were of an age to 




learn to do 

2^ in Home as 

j^^;;^ Rome does, 

^ without 



THE END OF THE WORLD. 



-much effort. 

At one extremity of this patch of desolation, overhung by 
hare and forbidding crags which husbanded drifts of everlast- 
ing snow in their shaded cavities, was a small stretch of thin 
and disconraired grass, and a man and a family of pigs were 
actually living here in some shanties. Consequently this 



370 GHASTLY DESOLATION. 

place could be really reckoned as " property ; " it had a money 
value, and was doubtless taxed. I think it must have marked 
the limit of real estate in this world. It would be hard to 
set a money value upon any piece of earth that lies between 
that spot and the empty reahn of space. That man may claim 
the distinction of owning the end of the world, for if there 
is any definite end to the world he has certainly found it. 

Frou) liere forward we moved through a storm-swept and 
smileless desolation. All about us rose gigantic masses, crags, 
and ramparts of bare and dreary rock, with not a vestige or 
semblance of plant or tree or flower anywhere, or glimpse of 
any creature that had life. The frost and the tempests of 
unnumbered ages had battered and hacked at these cliffs, with 
a deathless energy, destroying them piecemeal ; so all the 
region about their bases was a tumbled chaos of great frag- 
ments which had been split off and hurled to the ground. 
Soiled and aged banks of snow lay close about our path. 
The ghastly desolation of the place was as tremendously com- 
plete as if Dore had furnished the working plans for it. But 
every now and then, through the stern gateways around us 
we caught a view of some neighboring majestic dome, sheath- 
ed with glittering ice, and displaying its white purity at an 
elevation compared to which ours was groveling and plebeian, 
and this spectacle always chained one's interest and admira- 
tion at once, and made him forget there was anything ugly 
in the world. 

I have just said that there was nothing but death and deso- 
lation in these hideous places, but I forgot. In the most for- 
lorn and arid and dismal one of all, Mhere the racked and 
splintered debris was thickest, where the ancient patches of 
snow lay against the very path, where the winds blew bitter- 
est and the general aspect was mournfulest and dreariest, and 
furthest from any suggestion of cheer or hope, I found a soli- 
tary wee forget-me-not flourishing away, not a droop about it 
anywhere, but holding its bright blue star up with the pretti- 
est and gallantest air in the world, the only happy spirit, the 



ADVENTURES PROPOSED. 37l 

only smiling thing, in all that grisly desert. She seemed to 
say, "' Cheer up ! —ad long as we are here, let us make the best 
of it." 1 judged she had earned a right to a more hospitable 
place; so I plucked her up and sent her to America to a 
friend who would respect her for the fight she had made, all 
by her small self, to make a whole vast despondent Alpine 
desolation stop breaking its heart over the unalterable, and 




THK FORGET-ME-NOT. 



hold up its head and look at the bright side of things for 
once. 

We stopped for a nooning at a strongly built little inn call- 
ed the Schwarenbach. It sits in a lonely spot among the 
peaks, where it is swept by the trailing fringes of the cloud- 
rack, and is rained oa, snowed on, and pelted and persecuted 
by the storms, nearly every day of its life. It was the only 
habitation in the whole Gemmi Pass. 

Close at hand, now, was a chance for a blood-curdlinfif Al- 
pine adventure. Close at hand was the snowy mass of the 
Great Altels cooling its top-knot in the sky and daring us to 
an ascent. I was tired with the idea, and inmiediately made 
up my mind to procure the necessary guides, ropes, etc., and, 
undertake it. I instructed Harris to go to the landlord of 
the inn and set him about our preparations. Meantime 1 
went diligently to work to read up and find out what this 
much-talked-of raountain-clirabing was like, and how one 
should go about it, — for in these matters I was ignorant. 1 
opened Mr. Hinchliff s " Summer Months among the Alps," 



372 ASCENT OF MONTE ROSA 

(published lb57,) and selected his account of his ascent of 
Monte Rosa. It began, — 

"It is very difficult to free the mind from excitement on 
the evening before a grand exjDedition, — " 

I saw that I was too calm ; so I walked the room a while 
find worked myself into a high excitement ; but the book's 
next remark, — that the adventurer must get np at two in the 
morning, — came as near as anything to flatting it all ont 
again. However, I reinforced it, and read on, abont how 
Mr. HinchlifE dressed by candle-light and was " soon down 
among the guides, who were bustling about in the piassage, 
packing provisions, and making every preparation for the 
start ; " and how he glanced out into the cold clear night and 
saw that — 

'' The whole sky was blazing with stars, larger and brighter 
than they appear through the dense atmosphere breathed by 
inhabitants of the lower parts of the earth. They seemed ac- 
tually suspended from the dark vault of heaven, and their gen- 
tle light shed a fairy like gleam over the snow-fields around 
the foot of the Matterhorn, which raised its stupendous pin- 
nacle on high, penetrating to the heart of the Great Bear, and 
crowning itself with a diadem of his magnificent stars. Not 
a sound disturbed the deep tranquillity of the night, except 
the distant roar of streams which rush from the high plateau 
of the St. Theodule glacier, and fall headlong over precipi- 
tous rocks till they lose themselves in the mazes of the Gor- 
ner glacier." 

He took his hot toast and coffee, and then about half past 
tliree his caravan of ten men filed away from the Riff'el Hotel, 
and began the steep climb. At half past five he happened to 
turn around, and " beheld the glorious spectacle of the Mat- 
terliorn, just touched by the rosy-fingered morning, and look- ^ 
ing like a huge pyramid of fire rising out of the barren ocean 
of ice and rock around it." Then the Breithorn and the 
Dent Blanche caught the radiant glow ; but " the intervening 
mass of Monte Rosa made it necessary for us to climb many 




A NEEDLE OF ICE. 



PRECIPICES AND CREVASSES, 



375 



hours before we 
could hope to see 
the sun himself, 
yet the whole air 
soon grew warmer 
after the splendid 
birth of daj," 

He gazed at the 
lofty crown of 
Monte Rosa and 
the wastes of snow 
that guarded its 
steep approaches? 
and the chief guide 
delivered the opin- 
ion that no man 
could conquer their 
awful heights and 
put his foot upon 
that summit. But 
the adventurers 
moved steadily on, 
nevertheless. 

They toiled up, 
and up, and still up ; 
the}'' passed the 
Grand Plateau . 
then toiled up a 
steep shoulder of 
the mountain, cling- 
ing like flies to its 
rugged face ; and 
now they M^ere con- 
fronted by a tre- 
mendous wall from CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN. 

which great blocks of ice and snow were evidently in the 




376 AMONG THE SNOWS. 

habit of falling. They turned aside to skirt this wall, and 




SNOW CREVASSES. 



gradually ascended until their way was barred by a " maze of 



EXCITING EXPERIENCES. 377 

gigantic snow crevasses," — so they turned aside again, and 
"Dagdii a long climb of sufficient steepness to make a zigzag 
course necessary." 

Fatio"ue compelled them to halt frequently, for a moment 
or' two. At one of these halts somebody called out, "Look 
at Mont Blanc ! " and " we were at once made aware of the 
very great height we had attained by actually seeing the 
monarch of the Alps and his attendant satellites right over 
the top of the Bi-eithorn, itself at least 14,000 feet high ! " 

These people moved in single tile, and were all tied to a 
strong rope, at regular distances apart, so that if one of them 
slipped, on those giddy heights, the others could brace them- 
selves on their alpenstocks and save him from darting into 
the valley, thousands of feet below. By and by they came 
to an ice-coated ridge which was tilted up at a sharp angle, 
and had a precipice on one side of it. They had to climb 
this, so the guide in the lead cut steps in the ice with his 
hatchet, and as fast as he took his toes out of one. of these 
slight holes, the toes of the man behind him occupied it. 

" Slowly and steadily we kept on our way over this dan- 
gerous part of the ascent, and I daresay it was fortunate for 
some of us that attention was distracted from the head by the 
paramount necessity of looking after the feet ; for^ while on 
the left the incline of ice was so steep that it would he im,- 
possiblefor any man to save himself in case of a slip, unless 
the others could hold him %tp^ on the right we might drop a 
pehhlefrom the hand over precipices of unknown extent down 
upon the tremendous glacier helovj. 

" Great caution, therefore, was absolutely necessary, and 
in this exposed situation we were attacked by all the fury of 
that grand enemy of aspirants to Monte Rosa — a severe and 
bitterly cold wind from the north. The tine powdery snow 
was driven past us in clouds, penetrating the interstices of our 
clothes, and the pieces of ice which flew from the blows of 
Peter's axe were whisked into the air, and then dashed over 
the precipice. We had quite enough to do to prevent our- 
selves from being served in the same ruthless fashion, and 



378 CLIMBING AN ICE RIDGE, 

now and then, in the more violent gusts of wind, were glad 
to stick our alpenstocks into the ice and hold on hard." 

Having surmounted this perilous steep, they sat down and 
took a brief rest with their backs against a sheltering rock 
and their heels dangling over a bottomless abyss ; then tli.ey 
climbed to the base of another ridge, — a more difficult and 
dangerous one still : 

" The whole of the ridge was exceedingly narrow, and the 
fall on each side desperately steep, but the ice in some of 
these intervals between the masses of rock assumed the form 
of a mere sharp edge, almost like a knife ; these places, 
though not more than three or four short paces in length, 
looked uncommonly awkward; but, like the sword leading 
true believers to the gates of Paradise, they must needs be 
passed before we could attain to the summit of our ambition. 
These were in one or two places so narrow, that in stepping 
over them with toes well turned out for greater Fecurity, one 
end of the foot projected over the awful jprecijpice on the 
rights while the other was on the 'beginning of the icy slope on 
the left, which was scarcely less steep than the rocks. On 
these occasions Peter would take my hand, and each of us 
stretching as far as we could, he w^as thus enabled to get a 
firm footing two paces or rather more from me, whence a 
spring would probably bring him to the rock on the other 
side ; then, turning round, he called to me to come, and tak- 
ing a couple of steps carefully, I was met at the third b}'^ his 
outstretched hand ready to clasp mine, and in a moment 
stood by his side. The others followed in much the same 
fashion. Once my right foot slipped on the side towards 
the precipice, but I threw out my left arm in a moment so 
that it caught the icy edge under my armpit as I fell, and 
supported me considerably ; at the same instant I cast my 
eyes down the side on which I had slipped, and contrived to 
plant my riglit foot on a piece of rock as large as a cricket 
ball, which chanced to pro<^rude through the ice, on the very 
edge of the precipice. Being thus anchored fore and aft, 



REACHING THE SUMMIT. 



379 



as it were, I believe I could easily have recovered myself, 
even if I had been alone, though it must be confessed the 
situation would have been an awful one ; as it was, how- 
ever, a jerk from Peter settled the matter very soon, and I 
was on my legs all right in an instant. Tlie rope is an 
immense help in places of this kind." 

JSTow they arrived at the base of a great knob or dome ve- 
neered with ice and powdered with snow — the utmost sum- 
rait, the last bit of solidity be- 
tween them and the hollow vault 
of heaven. They set to work 
with their hatchets, and were 
soon creeping, insect-like, up its 
surface, with their heels project- 
ing over the thinnest kind of 
nothingness, thickened up a little 
with a few wandering shreds and 
hlms of cloud moving in lazy pro- 
cession far below. Presently one 
man's toe-hold broke and he fell ! 
There he dangled in mid-air at 
the end of the rope, like a spider, 
till his friends above hauled him 
into place again. 

A little bit later, the party stood cutting steps. 

upon the wee pedestal of the very summit, in a driving wind, 
and looked out upon the vast green expanses of Italy and a 
slioreless ocean of billow}' Alps. 

When I had read thus far, Harris burst into the room in 
a noble excitement and said the ropes and the guides were 
secured, and asked if I was ready. I said I believed I wouldn't 
ascend the Altels this time. I said Alp-climbing was a dif- 
ferent thing from what I liad supposed it was, and so I judged 
we had better study its points a little more before we went 
definitely into it. But I told him to retain the guides and 
order them to follow us to Zerraatt, because I meant to use 




380 



OUR ADVENTURES POSTPONED. 



them there. I said I conld feel the spirit of adventure 
beginning to stir in me, and was sure that the fell fascination 
of Alp-climbing would soon be upon me. I said he cOuld 
make up his mind to it that we would do a deed before we 
were a week older which would make the hair of the timid 
curl with fright. 

This made Harris happy, and filled him with ambitious 
anticipations. He went at once to tell the guides to follow 
us to Zermatt and bring all their paraphernalia with them. 




CHAPTER XXXV. 

A GREAT and priceless thing is a new interest! Ho\» 
it takes possession of a man ! how it clings to him, how 
it rides him ! I strode onward from the Schwarenbach hos- 
telry a changed man, a reorganized personality. I walked 
in a new world, I saw with new eyes. I had been looking 
aloft at the giant snow-peaks only as things to be worshiped 
for their grandeur and magnitude, and their unspeakable 
grace of form ; I looked up at them now, as also things to be 
conquered and climbed. My sense of their grandeur and 
their noble beauty was neither lost nor impaired ; I had gain- 
ed a new interest in the mountains without losing the old 
ones. I followed the steep lines up, inch by inch, with my 
eye, and noted the possibility or impossibility of following 
them with my feet. "When I saw a shining helmet of ice 
projecting above the clouds, I tried to imagine I saw files of 
black specks toiling up it roped together with a gossamer 
thread. 

We skirted the lonely little lake called the Daubensee, and 
presently passed close by a glacier on the right, — a thing like 
a great river frozen solid in its flow and broken square olf 
like a wall at its mouth. I had never been so near a glacier 
before. 

Here we came upon a new board shanty, and found some 
men engaged in building a stone house ; so the Schwaren- 
bach was soon to have a rival. We bought a bottle or so of 

381 



382 



A GRAND VIEW. 



beer here ; at any rate tliey called it beer, but 1 knew by the 
price that it was dissolved jewelry, and I perceived by the 
taste that dissolved jewelry is not good stuii" to drink. 

We were surrounded by a hideous desolation. We step- 
ped forward to a sort of jumping-off place, and were confront- 
ed by a startling contrast : we seemed to look down into fairy- 
land. Two or three thousand feet below us was a bright 




VIEW FROM THE CLIFF. 

green level, with a pretty town in its midst, and a silvery 
stream winding among the meadows ; the charming spot was 
walled in on all sides by gigantic precipices clothed with 
pines ; and over the pines, out of tlie softened distances, rose 
the snowy domes and peaks of the Monte Rosa region. How 
exquisitely green and beautiful that little valley down there 
was! The distance was not great enongh to obliterate de- 
tails, it only made them little, and njellow, and dainty, like 
landscapes and towns seen through the wrong end of a spy- 
glass. 



A MULE'S PREFERENCES. 385 

Hight under us a narrow ledge rose up out of the valley, 
with a green, slanting, bench-shaped top, and grouped about 
upon this greeij-baize bench were a lot of black and white 
sheep which looked merely like over-sized worms. The bencb 
seemed lifted well up into our neighborhood, but that was 
a deception, — it was a long way down to it. 

W^e began our descent, now, by the most remarkable road 
I have ever seen. It wound in corkscrew curves down the 
face of the colossal precipice, — a narrow way, with always 
the solid rock wall at one elbow, and perpendicular nothing- 
ness at the other. We met an everlasting procession of 
guides, porters, mules, litters, and tourists climbing up this 
steep and muddy path, and there was no room to spare when 
you had to pass a tolerably fat mule. I always took the in- 
side, when 1 heard or saw the mule coming, and flattened 
myself against the wall. I preferred the inside, of course, 
but I should have had to take it anyhow, because the mule 
prefers the outside. A mule's preference, — on a precipice 
— is a thing to be respected. Well, his choice is always the 
outside. His life is mostly devoted to carrying bulky pan- 
iers and packages which rest against his body,— therefore he 
is habituated to taking the outside edge of mountain paths, 
to keep his bundles from rubbing against rocks or banks on 
the other. When he goes into the passenger business he ab- 
surdly clings to his old habit, and keeps one leg of his pas- 
senger always dangling over the great deeps of the lower 
world while that passenger's heart is in the higliland's, so to 
speak. More than once I saw a mule's hind foot cave over 
the outer edge and send earth and rubbish into the bottom- 
less abyss ; and I noticed that upon these occasions the rider, 
whether male or female, looked tolerably unwell. 

There was one place where an 18-inch breadth of lio:ht 
masonry had been added to the verge of the path, and as there 
was a very sharp turn, here, a panel of fencing had been set 
up there at some ancient time, as a protection. This panel 
was old and gray and feeble, and the light masonrv had been 
23 



386 



TUENING A CORNER. 



loosened by recent rains. A young American girl came along 
on a mule, and in making the turn the mule's hind foot 
caved all 



the loose 

masonry 

and one of 

the fence 

podts over 

board; the 

mule gave 

a violent 

lurch in- 
board to'SL 

save him- 
self, and 

sue ceed- 

ed in the 

effort, but' 

that girl turned as white as the snows 

of Mont Blanc for a moment. 

The path here was simply a groove 
cut into the face of the precipice; 
there was a four-foot breadth of solid 
rock under the traveler, and a four-foot ^"'««^ ^ '^'^^^'■ 
breadth of solid rock just above his head, like the roof of a 
narrow porch ; he could look out from this gallery and see 
a sheer summitless and bottomless wall of rock before him, 
across a gorge or crack a biscuit's toss in width, — but he could 
not see the bottom of his own precipice unless he lay down 
and projected his nose over the edge. I did not do this, 
because I did not wish to soil my clothes. 

Every few hundred yards, at particularly bad places, one 
came across a panel or so of plank fencing; but they were 

■ always old and weak, and they generally leaned out over the 
"chasm and did not make any rasli promises to hold up people 
who might need support. There was one of these panels 




TERROR OF A HORSE. 



887 



•which had only its upper board left ; a pedestrianizing Eng- 
lish youth came tearing down the path, was seized with an 
impulse to look over the precipice, and without an instant's 
thought he tlirew his weight upon that crazy board. It bent 
outward a foot ! I never made a gasp before that came so 
near suffocating me. The English youth's face simply show- 
ed a lively surprise, but nothing more. He went swinging 
along valleywards again, as if he did not know he had just 
swindled a coroner bj' the closest kind of a shave. 

The Alpine litter is sometimes like a cushioned box made 
fast between the middles of two long poles, and sometimes it 
is a chair with a back to it and a support for the feet. It is 




THE ALPINE LITTER. 



carried by relays of strong porters. The motion is easier 
than that of any other conveyance. We met a few men and 
a great many ladies in litters ; it seemed to me that most of 
the ladies looked pale and nanseated ; their general aspect 
gave me the idea that they were patiently enduring a horri- 
ble suffering. As a rule, they looked at their laps, and left 
the scenery to take care of itself. 

But the most frightened creature I saw, was a led horse 
that overtook us. Poor fellow, he had been born and reared 
in the grassy levels of the Kandei-steg valley and had never 
seen anything like this hideous place before. Every few 
steps he would stop short, glance wildly out from tlie dizzy 



388 



GHASTLY DESOLATION. 



height, and then spread his red nostrils wide and pant as vio- 
lently as if he had been running a race ; and all the while he 
quaked from head to heel as with a palsy. He was a handsome 

fellow, and he 
made a tine statu- 
esque picture of 
terror, but it was 
pitiful to see him 
suffer so. 

This dreadful 
path has had its 
tragedy. Baede- 
ker, with his custo- 
mary over-terse- 
ness, begins and 
ends the tale thus: 
" The descent on 
horseback should 
b e avoided. In 
1861 a Coratesse d' 
Herlincourt fell 
from her saddle 
over the precipice 
and was killed on 
the spot." 

We looked over 
A STRANGE SITUATION. thc prcclpice there, 

and saw the monument which commemorates the event. It 
stands in the bottom of the gorge, in a place which has been 
hollowed out of the rock to protect it from the torrent and 
the storms. Our old guide never spoke but when spoken to, 
and then limited himself to a syllable or two ; but when we 
asked him about this tragedy he showed a strong interest in 
the matter. He said the Countess was very pretty, and very 
young, — hardly out of her girlhood, in fact. She was newly 
married, and was on her bridal tour. The young husband 





DEATH OP A COUNTKSS. 



A SEARCH FOR A HAT. 389 

was riding a little in advance ; one guide was leading the 
husband's horse, another was leading the bride's. The old 
man continued, — 

" The guide that was leading the husband'c=; horse happened 
to glance back, and there was that poor young thing sitting 
up staring out over the precipice ; and her face began to bend 
downward a little, and she put up her two hands slowly and 
met it, — so, — and put them flat against her eyes, — so, — tind 
then she sunk out of the saddle, with a sharp shriek, and one 
caught only the flash of a dress, and it was all over." 

Then after a pause, — 

" Ah yes, that guide saw these things, — yes, he saw them 
alL He saw them all, just as I have told you." 

After another pause, — 

" Ah yes, he saw them all. My God, that was me. I was 
that guide ! " 

This had been the one event of the old man's life; so one 
may be sure he had forgotten no detail connected with it. 
We listened to all he had to say about what was done and 
what happened and what was said after the sorrowful occur- 
rence, and a painful story it was. 

When we had wound down toward the valley until we 
were about on the last spiral of the corkscrew, Harris's hat 
blew over the last remaining bit of precipice, — a small cliff 
a hundred or a hundred and fifty feet high, — and sailed 
down towards a steep slant composed of rough chips and 
fragments which the weather had flaked away from the 
precipices. We went leisurely down there, expecting to 
find it without any trouble, but we had made a mistake, as 
to that. We hunted during a couple of hours, — not because 
the old straw hat was valuable, but out of curiosity to find 
out how such a thing could manage to conceal itself in open 
ground where there was nothing for it to hide behind. 
When one is reading in bed, and lays his paper-knife down, 
he cannot find it again if it is smaller than a sabre ; that hat 
was as stubborn as any paper-knife could have been, and we 



390 WHAT WE DID KIND. 

finally had to give it up ; but we found a fragment that liad 
once belonged to an opera glass, and by digging around and 
turning over the rocks we gradually collected all the lenses 
and the cylinders and the vai-ions odds and ends that go to 
make up a complete opera glass. We afterwai-ds had the 
thing reconstructed, and the owner can have his adventur- 
ous long-lost property by submitting proofs and paying costs 
of rehabilitation. We had hopes of finding the owner there, 
distributed around amongst the rocks, for it would have made 
an elegant paragraph ; but we were disappointed. Still, we 
were far from being disheartened, for there was a consider- 
aible area which we had not thoroughly searched; we were 
satisiied he was there, somewhere, so we resolved to Avait 
over a day at Leuk and come back and get him. Then we 
sat down to polish off the perspiration and arrange about 
what we would do with him when we got him. Harris was 
for contributing him to the British Museum ; but I was for 
mailing him to his widow. That is the difference between 
Harris and me : Harris is all for display, I am all for the 
simple right, even thougli I lose money by it. Harris argued 
in favor of his proposition and against mine, I argued in 
favor of mine and against his. The discussion wanned into 
a dispute; the dispute wjirmed into a quarrel. I finally said, 
very decidedly,- — 

" My mind is made up. He goes to the widow." 

Harris answered sharply, — 

"And my mind is made up. He goes to the Museum." 

I said, calmly, — 

"The Museum may whistle when it gets him." 

Harris retorted, — 

" Tlie widow may save herself the trouble of whistling, for 
I will see that she never gets him." 

After some angry bandying of epithets, I said, — 

" It seems to me that you are taking on a good many airs 
about these remains. I don't quite see w^hat you've got to 
say about them ? " 



HARRIS' OPINION OF CHAMOIS. 391 

"/f I've got (2^(i to say about tliein. They'd never have 
been thought of if I hadn't found their opera glass. The 
corpse belongs to me, and I'll do as I please with him." 

I was leader of the Expedition, and all discoveries achiev- 
ed by it naturally belonged to me. I was entitled to these 
remains, and could have enforced my right ; but rather than 
have bad blood about the matter, I said we would toss up 
for them. I threw heads and won, but it was a barren vic- 
tory, for although we spent all the next day searching, we 
never found a bone. I cannot imagine what could ever have 
become of that fellow. 

The town in the valley is called Leuk or Leukerbad, we 
pointed our course toward it, down a verdant slope which 
was adorned with fringed gentians and other flowers, and 
presentW entered the narrow alleys of the outskirts and 
waded tf>ward the middle of the town through liquid "fer- 
tilizer." They ought to either pave that village or organize 
a ferry. 

Harris's body was simply a chamois-pasture ; his person 
was populous with the little hungry pests ; his skin, when he 
stripped, was splotched like a scarlet fever patient's ; so, when 
we wero about to enter one of the Leukerbad inns, and he 
notice 1 its sign, " Chamois Hotel," he refused to stop there. 
He said the chamois was plentiful enough, w-ithout hunting 
up hotels where they made a specialty of it. I was indif- 
ferent, for the chamois is a creature that will neither bite me 
nor abide with me : but to calm Harris, we went to the Hotel 
des Alpes. 

At the table d'hote we had this, for an incident. A very 
grave man, — in fact his gravity amounted to solemnity, and 
almost to austerity, — sat opposite us and he was " tight," 
but doing his best to appear sober. He took np a corked 
bottle of wine, tilted it over his glass a while, then sat it out 
of the way, with a contented look, and went on with his 
dinner. 

Presently he put his glass to his mouth, and of course 



392 



A DISAPPOINTED MAN. 



found it empty. He looked puzzled, and glanced furtively 
and suspiciously out of the corner of his eye at a benignant 
and unconscious old lady who sat at his right. Shook his 
head, as much as to say, "No, she couldn't have done it." 
r4R^ He tilted the corked bottle over 
^ hisglass Mgain, meantime search- 
^ ing around with his wateiy eye 
■^ to see if anybody was watching 
him. He ate a few mouthfuls, 
raised his glass to his lips, and 
of course it was still empty. He 
^ ^\ bent an injured and accusing 
4^' side gaze upon that unconscious 
old lady, which was a study to 
see. She went on eating and 
( gave no sign. He took up his 
' glass and his bottle, with a wise 
private nod of his head, and set 
them gravel}^ on the left hand 
-'N\/ r^' "- - '"^^^^ '^=5^C' ^^^^ ^^ ^^^^ plate, — poured him- 

" they've got it all." self another imaginary drink, 

— went to work with his knife and fork once more, — pres- 
ently lifted his glass with good confidence, and found it 
empty, as usual. 

This was almost a petrifying surprise. He straightened 
himself up in his chair and deliberately and sorrowfully in- 
spected the busy old ladies at his elbows, first one and then 
the other. At last he softly pushed his plate away, set his 
glass directly in front of him, held on to it with his left 
hand, and proceeded to pour with his riglit. This time he 
observed that nothing came. He turned the bottle clear 
upside down ; still nothing issued from it ; a plaintive look 
came into his face, and he said, as if to himself, "He/ 
They've got it all!'''' Then he set the bottle down, resign- 
edly, and took the rest of his dinner dry. 

It was at that table d'hote, too, that I had under inspection 




A FEMALE GIANTESS, 



J93 



the largest lady 1 have ever seen in private life. She was 
over seven feet high, and magniticentlj proportioned, ^hat 
had first called my attention to her, was my stepping on an 
outlying flange of her foot, and hearing, from up toward 
the ceili^ig, a deep " Pardon, m'sieu, but you encroach ! " 

That was when we were coming through the hall, and the 
place was dim, and I could see her only vaguely. The thing 
which called my attention 
to her the second time, 
was, that at a table beyond 
ours were two very pretty 
girls, and this great lady 
came in and sat down be- 
tween them and me and 
blotted out the view. She 
had a handsome face, and 
she was very finely formed , 
— perfectly formed, 1 M 
should say. But she made 
everybody around her look 
trivial and commonplace. 
Ladies near her looked like 
children, and the men j| 
about her looked mean. 
They looked like failures ; 
and they looked as if they 
felt so, too. She sat with 
her back to us. I never saw such a back in my life. I 
would have so liked to seethe moon rise over it. The whole 
congregation waited, under one pretext or another, till she 
finished her dinner and went out ; they wanted to see her 
at her full altitude, and they found it worth tarrying for. 
She filled one's idea of what an empress ought to be, when 
she rose up in her unapproachable grandeur and moved 
Bupnrhly out of that place. 

We were not at Leuk in time to see her at her heaviest 




MODEL FOR AN EMPRESS. 



394 



THE BATHERS AT LEUK. 



weight. Slie bad suffered from corpulence and had come 
there to get rid of her extra flesh in the baths. Five weeks 
of soaking, — five uninterrupted hours of it every day, — had 
accomplished her purpose and reduced her to the right pro- 
portions. 

Those baths remove fat, and also skin-diseases. The pa- 
dents remain in the great tanks hours at a time. A dozen 
gentlemen and ladies occnpy a tank together, and amuse 
themselves with roinpings and various ganies. They have 
floating desks and tables, and they read or lunch or play chess 
in water tliat is breast deep. The tourist can step in and 
view this novel spectacle if he chooses. There's a poor-box, 
and he will have to contribute. There are several of these 






fe 







K/ 



\~ 



It 







BATH HOUSliS AT LKUKE. 



big bathing house-, and you can always tell when yon a!-e 
near one of them by the romping noises and sliouts of laugh- 
ter that proceed from it. The water is running water, and 
changes all the time, else a patient with a ringworm might 



I 



THE GEMMI PRECIPICES. 397 

take the bath with oulj a partial success, since while he was 
ridding himself of his ringworm, he might catch the itch. 

Tlie next morning we wandered back up the green valley, 
leisurely, with the curving walls of those bare and stupen- 
dous precipices rising into the clouds before us. I had never 
seen a clean, bare precipice stretching iip live thousand feet 
above me before, and I never shall expect to see another one. 
They exist, perhaps, but not in places where one can easily 
get close to tliem. This pile of stone is peculiar. From its 
base to the soaring tops of its mighty towers, all its lines and 
all its details vaguely suggest human architecture. There 
are rudimentary bow windows, cornices, chimneys, demarca- 
tions of stories, etc. One could sit and stare up there and 
study the features and exquisite graces of this grand structure, 
bit by bit, and day after day, and never weary his intei-est. 
The termination, toward the town, observed in profile, is the 
perfection of shape. It comes down out of the clouds in a 
succession of rounded, colossal, terrace-like projections, — a 
stairway for the gods; at its head spring several lofty storm- 
scarred towers, one above another, with faint films of vapor 
curling always about them like spectral banners. If there 
were a king whose realms included the whole world, here 
would be the palace meet and proper for such a monarch. 
He would only need to hollow it out and put in the electric 
light. He could give audience to a nation at a time under 
its roof. 

Our search for those remains having failed, we inspected 
with a glass the dim and distant track of an old-time avalanche 
that once swept down from some piue-grown summits behind 
the town and swept away the houses and buried the peo]ile ; 
then we struck down the road that leads toward the Rlione, 
to see the famous Ladders. These perilous things are built 
against the perpendicular face of aclififtwo or three hundred 
feet high. The peasants, of both sexes, were climbing up and 
down them, with heavy loads on their backs. I ordered 
Harris to make the ascent, so I could put the thrill and 



398 CLIMBING THE FAMOUS LADDERS. 

horror of it in my book, and be accomplished the feat success- 
fully, through a sub-agent for three francs, which 1 paid. It 
makes me sliudder yet when I tbink of what I felt when I 
was clinging there between heaven and earth in the person 
of that proxy. At times the world swam around me, and I 
could hardly keep from letting go, so dizzying was the appal- 
ing danger. Many a person would have given up and de- 
scended, but I stuck to my task, and would not yield until I 
had accomplished it. I felt a just pride in my exploit, but 
1 would not have repeated it for tbe wealth of the world. I 
shall break my neck yet with some such fool-hardy perform- 
ance, for warnings never seem to have any lasting effect 
upon me. When the people of the hotel found that I had 
been climbing those crazy Ladders, it made me an object of 
considerable distinction. 

Next morning, early, we drove to the Rhone valley and 
took the train for Tisp. There we shouldered our knapsacks 
and things, and set out on foot, in a tremendous rain, up the 
winding gorge, toward Zermatt. Hour after hour we slop- 
ped along, by the roaring torrent, and under noble Lesser 
Alps which were clothed in rich velvety green all the way 
up and had little atomy Swiss homes perched upon grassy 
benches along their mist-dimmed heights. 

The rain continued to pour and the torrent to boom, and 
we continued to enjoy both. At the one spot where this 
torrent tossed its white mane highest, and thundered loudest, 
and lashed the big boulders fiercest, the canton had done it- 
self the honor to build the flimsiest wooden bridge that exists 
in the world. While we were walking over it, along with a 
party of horsemen, I noticed that even the larger rain-drops 
made it shake. I called Harris's attention to it, and he no- 
ticed it, too. It seemed to me that if I owned an elephant 
that was a keepsake, and I thought a good deal of him, I 
would think twice before I would ride him over that bridge* 

We climbed up to the village of St. Nicholas, about Iralf 
past four in the afternoon, waded ankle deep through the 



A REGULAR MUDDLE. 



399 



fertilizer-juice, and stopped at a new and nice hotel close by 
the little church. We stripped and went to bed, and sent our 
clothes down to be baked. All the horde of soaked tourists 
did the same. That chaos of clothing got mixed in the kit- 
chen, and there were consequences. I did not get back the 
same drawers I sent down, when our things came up at 6:15 ; 
I got a pair on a new plan. They were merely a pair of white 
ruffle-cuffed absurdities, hitched together at tlie top with 
a narrow band, and they did not come quite down to my 
knees. They were pretty enough, but they made me feel 
like two people, and disconnected at that. The man must 
have been an idiot that got himself up like that, to rough it 




RATHER MIXED UP. 



in the Swiss mountains. The shirt they brought me was 
shorter than the drawers, and hadn't any sleeves to it, — at 
least it hadn't anything more than what Mr. Darwin would 
call "rudimentary" sleeves; these had "edging" around 
them, but the bosom was ridiculously plain. The knit silk 



400 A BAD FIX FOR A MINISTER. 

undershirt they brought me was on a new plan, and was real- 
ly a sensible thing; it opened behind, and liad pockets in it 
to put your shoulder blades in ; but they did not seem to fit 
mine, and so I found it a sort of uncomfortable garment. 
They gave my bob-tail coat to somebody else, and sent me 
an ulster suitable for a giraffe. I had to tie my collar on, be- 
cause there was no button behind on that foolish little shirt 
wliich I described a while ago. 

When I was dressed for dinner at 6.30, I was too loose in 
some places and too tight in others, and altogether I felt 
slovenly and ill conditioned. However, the people at the 
table d'hote were no better off than I was ; they had ever- 
body's clothes but their own on. A long stranger recogniz- 
ed his ulster as soon as he saw the tail of it following me in, 
bnt nobody claimed my shirts or my drawers, though I de- 
scribed them as well as I was able. I gave them to the cham- 
bermaid that night when I went to 'bed, and she probably 
found the owner, for my own things were on a chair outside 
my door in tlie morning. 

There was a lovable English clergyman who did not get 
to the table d'hote at all. His breeches had turned up miss- 
ing, and without any equivalent. He said he was not more 
particular than other people, but he had noticed that a cler- 
gyman at dinner without any breeches was almost sure to 
excite remark. 




CHAPTER XXXVT. 

WE did not oversleep at St. Nicholas. The church bell 
began to ring at 4:30 in the morning, and from the 
leno-th of time it continued to ring I judged that it takes the 
Swiss sinner a good while to get the invitation through his 
head. Most church bells in the world are of poor quality, and 
have a harsh and rasping sound which upsets the temper and 
produces much sin, but the St. Nicholas bell is a good deal 
the worst one that has been contrived yet, and is peculiarly 
maddening in its operation. Still, it may have its right and 
its excuse to exist, for the community is poor and not every 
citizen can afford a clock, perhaps ; but there cannot be any 
excuse for our church bells at home, for there is no family 
in America wnthout a clock, and consequently there is no fair 
pretext for the usual Sunday medley of dreadful sounds that 
issues from our steeples. There is much more profanity in 
America on Sunday than in all the other six days of the week 
put together, and it is -of a more bitter and malignant charac- 
ter than the week-day profanity, too. It is produced by the 
cracked-pot clangor of the cheap church bells. 

We build our churches almost without regard to cost ; we 
rear an edifice which is an adornment to the town, and we 
gild it, and fresco it, and mortgage it, and do everything we 
can think of to perfect it, and then spoil it all by putting a 
bell on it wliich afflicts everybody who hears it, giving some 
the headache, others St. Yitus's dance, and the rest the blind- 
staggers. 

401 



402 



A SUNDAY MORNING. 



An Ainerican village at ten o'clock on a summer Sunday is 
the quietest and peacefulest and holiest thing in nature ; but 
it is a pretty different thing half an hour later. Mr. Poe's 
poem of the " Bells" stands incomplete to this day; but it 

is well enough that it is so, for the 
public reciter or " reader " who 
goes around trying to imitate the 
sounds of the various sorts of bells 
with his voice would find himself 
" up a stump " when he got to the 
church bell — as Joseph Addison 
would say. The church is always 
trying to get other people to re- 
form ; it might not be a bad idea 
to reform itself a little, b}^ way of 
example. It is still clinging to 
one or two things w])ich were use- 
ful once, but which are not useful 
now, neither are they ornamental. 
One is the bell-ringing to remind 
a clock-caked town that it is church 
time, and another is the reading 
from the pulpit of a tedious list of 
" notices" which everybody who 
is interested has already read in 
the newspaper. The clergyman 
even reads the hymn througli, — a 
B relic of an ancient time when hymn 
books were scarce and costly ; but 
A SUNDAY MORNING'S DEMON, cvcrybody has a hymn book, now, 
and so the public reading is no longer necessary. It is not 
merely unnecessary, it is generally painful ; for the average 
clersryman could not fire into his congregation with a shot- 
o-un^ and liit a worse reader than himself, unless the weapon 
scattered shamefully. I am not meaning to be flippant and 
irreverent, I am only meaning to be truthful. The average 




A MAGNIFICENT GLACIER. 403 

clergyman, in all countries and of all denominations, is a very 
bad reader. One would think he would at least learn how to 
read the Lord's Prayer, by and by, but it is not so. He races 
through it as if he thought the quicker he got it in, the sooner 
it would be answered. A person who does not appreciate the 
exceeding value of pauses, and does not know how to measure 
their duration judiciously, cannot render the grand simplicity 
and dignity of a composition like that effectivel3^ 

We took a tolerably early bieakfast, and tramped off to- 
ward Zermatt through the reeking lanes of the village, glad 
to get away from that bell. By and by we had a fine spec- 
tacle on our right. It was the wall-like butt-end of a huge 
glacier, wliich looked down on us from an Alpine heio-ht 
M^hich was well up in the blue sky. It was an astonishing 
amount of ice to be compacted together in one mass. "We 
ciphered upon it and decided that it was not less than several 
hundred feet from the base of the wall of solid ice to the top 
of it, — Harris believed it was really twice that. We judged 
that if St. Paul's, St. Peter's, the Great Pyramid, the Stras- 
burg Cathedral and the Capitol at Washington were cluster- 
ed against that wall, a man sitting on its upper edge could 
not hang his hat on the top of any one of them without reach- 
ing down three or four hundred feet, — a thing which of course 
no man could do. 

To me, that mighty glacier was very beautiful. I did not 
imagine that anybody could find fault Math it ; but I was mis- 
taken. Harris had been snarling for several days. He was 
a rabid Protestant, and he was always saying, — 

" In the Protestant cantons you never see such poverty and 
dirt and squalor as you do in this Catholic one; you never 
see the lanes and alleys flowing with foulness ; you never see 
such wretched little sties of houses ; you never see an in- 
verted tin turnip on top of a church for a dome ; and as for a 
church bell, why you never hear a church bell at all." 

All this morning he had been finding fault, straight along. 
First it was with the mud. He said, "It ain't muddy in a 
24 



404 ~ FAULT FINDING BY HARRIS. 

Protestant canton when it rains." Tlien it was with the 
dogs: " They don't have those lop-eared dogs in a Protest- 
ant canton." Then it was with the roads : " Thev don't 
leave tlie roads to make themselves in a Protestant canton, 
the people make them,— and they make a road that is a road, 
too." Next it was the goats : " You never see a goat shed- 
ding tears in a Protestant canton — a goat, there, is one of the 
cheerf alest objects in nature." Next it wat4 the chamois : 
" You never see a Pi-otestant chamois act like one of these, 
— they take a bite or two and go ; but these fellows camp 
with you and stay." Then it "was^the guide-boards: " In a 
Protestant canton you couldn't get lost if you wanted to, but 
you never see a guide-board in a Catholic canton." ISfext, 
'' You never see any flower-boxes in the windows, here, — 
never anything but now and then a cat, — a torpid one; but 
you take a Protestant canton : windows perfectly lovely with 
flowers, — and as for cats, there's just acres of them. These 
folks in this canton leave a road to make itself, and then 
flne you three francs if you ' trot' over it — as if a horse could 
trot over such a sarcasm of a road." Next about the goitre : 
" Thej/ talk about goitre ! — I haven't seen a goitre in this 
whole canton that I couldn't put in a hat." 

He had growled at everything, but I judged it would puz- 
zle him to And anything the matter with this majestic glacier. 
I intimated as much ; but he was ready, and said with surly 
discontent, — 

" You ought to see them in the Protestant cantons." 

This irritated me. But I concealed the feeling, and asked^ 

" What is the matter with this one ? " 

" Matter? Why, it ain't in any kind of condition. They 
never take any care of a glacier here. The moraine has been 
spilling gravel around it, and got it all dirty." 

" Why, man, thei/ can't help that." 

" The]/ f You're right. That is, they wonH. They could 
if they wanted to. You never see a speck of dirt on a Prot- 
estant glacier. Look at the Phone glacier. It is fifteen miles 



ALMOST AN ACCIDENT. 405 

long, and seven hundred feet thick. If this was a Protestant 
glacier jou wooldii't see it looking like this, I can tell you." 
" That is nonsense. What would they do with it ? " 
" They would whitewash it. They always do." 
I did not believe a word of this, but rather than have trouble 
1 let it go ; for it is a waste of breath to argue with a bigot. 
1 even doubted if the Rhone glacier was in a Protestant can- 
ton ; but I did not know, so 1 could not make anything by 
contradicting a man who would probably put me down at 
once with manufactured evidence. 

About nine miles from St. Nicholas we crossed a Bridge 
over the raging torrent of the Visp, and came to a long strip 
of flimsy fencing which was pretending to secure people 
from tumbling over a perpendicular wall forty feet high and 
into the river. Three children were approaching; one of 
them, a little girl about eight years old, was running; when 
pretty close to us she stumbled and fell, and her feet shot 
under the rail of the fence and for a moment projected over 
the stream. It gave us a sharp shock, for we thought she 
was gone, sure, for the ground slanted steeply, and to save 
herself seemed a sheer impossibility ; but she managed to 
scramble up, and ran by us laughing. 

We went forward and examined the place and saw the 
long tracks which her feet had made in the dirt when they 
darted over- the vernje. If she had finished her trip she would 
have struck some big rocks in the edge of the water, and then 
the torrent would have snatched her down stream among the 
half covered boulders and she would have been pounded to 
pulp in two minutes. We had come exceedingly near wit- 
nessing her death. 

And now Harris's contrary nature and inborn selfishness 
were strikingly manifested. He has no spirit of self-denial, 
lie began straight ofi^, and continued for an hour, to express 
his gratitude that the child was not destroyed. I never saw 
such a man. That was -the kind of person he was ; just so 
he was gratified, he never cared anything about anybody else 



40G 



HARRIS'S SELFISHNESS. 



I had noticed that trait in him, over and over again. Often, 
of course, it was mere heedlessness, mere want of reflection. 
Doubtless this may have been the case in most instances, but 
it was not the less hard to bear on that account, — and after 
all, its bottom, its groundwork, was selfishness. There is no 
avoiding that conclusion. In the instance under considera- 
tion, I did think the indecency of running on in that way 




JUST SAVED. 

mio-ht occur to him : but no, the child was saved and he was 
glad, that was sufficient, — he cared not a straw for my feel- 
ings, or my loss of such a literary plum, snatched from my 
very mouth at the instant it was ready to drop into it. His 




VIEW IN VALLEY OF ZERMATT. 



APPROACHING ZERxMATT. 4,07 

selfishness was sufficient to place his own gratification in 
being spared suffering clear before all concern for me, his 
friend. Apparently he did not once reflect upon the valua- 
ble details which would have fallen like a windfall to me : 
fishing the child out, — witnessing the surprise of tlie family 
and the stir the thing wouid have made among the peasants, 
— then a Swiss funeral, — then the roadside monument, to be 
paid for by us and have our names mentioned in it. And 
we should have gone into Baedeker and been immortal. I 
was silent. I was too much hurt to complain. If he could 
act so, and be so heedless and so frivolous at such a time, and 
actually seem to glory in it, after all I had done for him, I 
would have cut my hand off before I would let him see that 
I was wounded. 

We were approaching Zermatt ; consequently we were ap- 
proaching the renowned Matterhorn. A month before, this 
mountain had been only a name to us, but latterly we had 
been moving through a steadily thickening double row of 
pictures of it, done in oil, water, chromo, wood, steel, copper,, 
crayon, and photography, and so it had at length become ai 
shape to Us, — and a very distinct, decided, and familiar one-, 
too. We were expecting to recognize that mountain whenr 
ever or wherever we should run across it. We were not de- 
ceived. The monarch was far away when we first saw him, 
but there was no such thing as mistaking him. He has the 
rare peculiarity of standing by himself; he is peculiarly steep, 
too, and is also most oddly shaped. He towers into the sky 
like a colossal wedge, with the upper third of its blade bent 
a little to the left. The broad base of this monster wedge 
is planted upon a grand glacier-paved Alpine platform whose 
elevation is ten thousand feet above sea level ; as the wedge 
itself is some five thousand feet high, it follows that its apex 
is about fifteen thousand feet above sea level. So the whole 
bulk of this stately piece of rock, this sky-cleaving monolith, 
is above the line of eternal snow. Yet while all its giant 
neighbors have the look of being built of solid snow, from 



408 THE MATTERHORN. 

their waists up, the Matterhorn stands bhick and naked and 
forbidding, the year round, or merely powdered or streaked 
with wliite in places, for its sides are so steep that the snow 
cannot stay there. Its strange form, its august isolation, and 
its majestic unkinship with its own kind, make it, — so to 
speak, — the Napoleon of the mountain world. " Grand, 
gloomy, and peculiar," is a phrase which fits it as aptly as it 
litted the great captain. 

Think of a monument a mile high, standing on a pedestal 
two miles high ! This is what the Matterhorn is, — a monu- 
ment. Its office, henceforth, for all time, will be to keep 
watch and ward over the secret resting-place of the young 
Lord Douglas, who, in 1865, was precipitated from the sum- 
mit over a precipice 4,000 feet liigh, and never seen again. 
No man ever had such a monument as this before ; the most 
imposing of the world's other monuments are but atoms com- 
pared to it ; and tin y will perish, and their places will pass 
from memory, but this will remain.* 

A walk from St. Nicholas to Zermatt is a w^onderful ex- 
perience. Nature is built on a stupendous plan in that re- 
gion. One marches continually between walls that are piled 
into the skies, with their upper heights broken into a confu- 
sion of sublime shapes that gleam white and cold against the 
background of blue ; and here and there one sees a big gla- 
cier displaying its grandeurs orTthe top of a precipice, or a 
graceful cascade leaping and flashing down the green declivi- 
ties. There is nothing tame, or cheap, or trivial, — it is all 
magnificent. That short valley is a picture gallery of a no-, 
table kind, for it contains no mediocrities; from end to end 
the Creator has hung it with His masterpieces. 



*Tlie accident which cost Lord Douglas his life, (see chapter 41) also cost 
the lives of three other men. These three fell four-fifthz of a mile, and 
their bodies were afterwards found, lying side by side, upon a glacier, 
whence they were borne to Zermatt and buried in the churchyard. The re- 
mains of Lord Douglas have never been found. The secret of his sepul- 
ture, like that of Moses, must remain a mystery always. 



ZERMATT. 411 

We made Zermatt at 3 in the afternoon, nine hours out 
from St. Nicholas. Distance, bj guide-book, 12 miles, bj 
pedometer 72. We were in the heart and home of the mount- 
ain-climbers, now, as all visible things testified. The snow- 
peaks did not hold theuiselves aloof, in aristocratic reserve, 
thej nestled close around, in a friendly, sociable way ; guides, 
with the ropes and axes, and other implements of their fear- 
ful calling slung about their persons, roosted in a long line 
upon a stone wall in front of the hotel, and waited for cus- 
tomers ; sunburned climbers, in mountaineering costume, 
and followed by their guides and porters, arrived from time 
to time, from break-neck expeditions among the peaks and 
glaciers of the High Alps ; male and female tourists, on mules, 
filed by, in a continuous procession, hotelward-bound from 
wild adventures which would grow in grandeur every time 
they were described at the English or American fireside, and 
at last outgrow the possible itself. 

We were not dreaming ; this was not a make-believe home 
of the Alp-climber, created by our heated imaginations: no, 
for here was Mr, Girdlestone himself, the famous Englishman 
who hunts his way to the most foi-niidable Alpine summits 
without a guide. I was not equal to imagining a Girdlestone ; 
it was all I could do to even realize liim, while looking 
straight at him at short range, I would rather face whole 
Hyde Parks of artillery than the ghastly forms of death 
which he has faced among the peaks and precipices of the 
mountains. There is probably no pleasure equal to the pleas- 
ure of climbing a dangerous Alp ; but it is a pleasure which 
is confined strictly to people who can ^\G pleasure in it. I 
have not jumped to this conclusio'i ; I have traveled to it per 
gravel train, so to speak. I have thought the thing all out, 
and am quite sure I am right. A born climber's appetite for 
climbing is hard to satisfy ; M'heu it comes upon him he is 
like a. starving man with a feast before him ; he may have 
other business on hand, but it must wait, Mr. Girdlestone 
had had his usual summer holiday in the Alps, and had spent 



4l2 LADY MOUNTAIN-CLIMBERS. 

it in his usual way, hunting for unique chances to break his 
neck ; his vacation was over, and his luggage packed for Eng- 
land, but all of a sudden a hunger had come upon him to 
climb the tremendous Weisshoru once more, for he had heard 
of a new and utterly impossible route up it. His baggage 
was unpacked at once, and now he and a friend, laden with 
knapsacks, ice-axes, coils of rope, and canteens of milk, were 
just setting out. They would spend the night high up among 
the snows, somewhere, and get up at 2 in the morning and 
finish the enterprise. I had a strong desire to go witli them, 
but forced it down, — a feat which Mr. Girdlestone, with all 
his fortitude, could not do. 

Even ladies catch the climbing mania, and are unable to 
throw it oif. A famous climber, of that sex, had attempted 
the Weisshoru a few days before our arrival, and she and her 
guides had lost their way in a snowstorm high up among the 
peaks and glaciers and been forced to wander around a good 
while before the}- could find a way down. When this lady 
reached the bottom, she had been on her feet twenty-three 
hours ! 

Our guides, hired on the Gemmi, were already at Zermatt 
when we reached there. So there was nothing to interfere 
with our getting up an adventure whenever we should choose 
the time and the object. I resolved to devote my first eve- 
ning in Zermatt to studying up the subject of Alpine climb- 
ing, by way of preparation. 

I read several books, and here are some of the things I 
found out. One's shoes must be strong and heavy, and have 
pointed hob-nails in them. The alpenstock must be of the 
best wood, for if it should break, loss of life might be the 
result. One should carry an axe, to cut steps in the ice with, 
on the great heights. There must be a ladder, for there are 
steep bits of rock which can be surmounted with this instru- 
ment, — or this utensil, — but could not be surmounted with- 
out it ; such an obstruction has compelled the tourist to waste 
hours hunting another route, when a ladder would have 



WANTS OF A MOUNTAIN-CLIMBER. 



413 



sAved him all trouble. One must have from 150 to 500 feet 
of strono- rope, to be used in lowering the party down steep 
declivities which are too steep and smooth to be traversed in 
any other way. One must have a steel hook, on another 

j.Qpe^ a- very useful thing; for when one is ascending and 

comes to a low bluff 
which is yet too high 
for the ladder, he 
swings this rope aloft 
Hke a lasso, the hook 
catclies at the top of 
the bluff, and then 
the tourist climbs the 
rope, hand over hand, 
— being always par- 
ticular to try and for- 
get that if the hook 
gives way he will 
never stop falling till 
h e arrives in some 
part of Switzerland 
where they are not ex- 
pecting him. Anoth- 
er important thing — 
there must be a rope 
to tie the whole party together with, so that if one falls from 
a mountain or down a bottomless chasm in a glacier, the 
others may brace back on the rope and save him. One must 
have a silk veil, to protect his face from snow, sleet, hail and 
gale, and colored goggles to protect his eyes from that danger 
ous enemy, snow-blindne?s. Finally, there must be some 
porters, to carry provisions, wine and scientific instruments, 
and also blanket bags for the party to sleep in. 

I closed mj readings with a fearful adventure which Mr. 
Whyinpor once had on the Matterhorn when he was prowl- 
ing around alone, 5,000 above the town of Breil. He was 




FITTED OUT. 



J-14 A FEARFUL ADVENTURE. 

edging his way gingerly around the corner of a precipice 
where the upper edge of a sharp declivity of ice-glazed snow 
Joined it. This declivity swept down a couple of hundred 
feet, into a gully which curved around and ended at a preci- 
pice 800 feet high, overlooking a glacier. His foot slipped, 
and he fell. He says : 

"My knapsack brought my head down first, and I pitched 
into some rocks about a dozen feet below ; they canght some- 
thing, and tumbled me oft' the edge, head over heels, into 
the gully ; the baton was dashed from my hands, and I 
whirled downwards in a series of bounds, each longer than 
the last; now over ice, now into rocks, striking my head 
four or five times, each time with increased force. The last 
bound sent me spinning tlirough the air in a leap of fifty or 
sixty feet, from one side of the gully to the other, and 1 struck 
the rocks, luckily, with the whole of my left side. They 
caught my clothes for a moment, and I fell back on to the 
snow with motion arrested. My head fortunatel}' came the 
right side up, and a few frantic catches brought me to a halt, 
in the neck of the gully and on the verge of the precipice. 
Baton, hat, and veil skimmed by and disappeared, and the 
crash of the rocks — which I had started — as they fell on to 
the glacier, told how narrow had been the escape from utter 
destruction. As it was, I fell nearly 200 feet in seven or 
eight bounds. Ten feet more would have taken me in one 
gigantic leap of 800 feet on to the glacier below. 

" The situation was sufficiently serious. The rocks could 
not be let go for a moment, and the blo(»d was spirting out 
of more than twenty cuts. The most serious ones were in 
the head, and I vainly tried to close them with one hand, 
whilst holding on with the other. It was useless; the blood 
gushed out in blinding jets at each pulsation. At last, in a 
moment of inspiration, I kicked out a big lump of snow and 
stuck it as plaster on my head. The idea was a happy one, 
and the flow of blood diminished. Then, scrambling up, I 
got, not a moment too soon, to a place of safety, and fainted 




A FEARFUL FALL. 



NEVER SATISFIED. 



417 



away. The siin was setting when consciousness returned, 
and it was pitch dark before the Great Staircase was descend- 
ed ; but by a combination of luck and care, the whole 4700 
feet of descent to Breil was accomplished without a slip, or 
once missing the way." 

His wounds kept him abed some days. Then he got up 
and climbed that mountain again. That is the way with a 
true Alp-climber ; the more fun he has, the more he wants. 




■^^^^v 



CHAPTER XXXVn. 

AFTER I had finished my readings, I was no longer my- 
self; I was tranced, uplifted, intoxicated, by the almost 
incredible perils and adventures I had been following my au- 
thors through, and the triumphs I had been sharing with them. 
I sat silent some time, then turned to Harris and said, — 

"My mind is made up." 

Something in my tone struck him ; and when he glanced 
at my eye and read what was written there, his face paled 
perceptibly. He hesitated a moment, then said, — 

" Speak." 

I answered, with perfect calmness, — 

" I WILL ASCEND THE KIFFELHERG." 

If I had shot my poor friend he could not have fallen from 
his chair more suddenly. If I had been his father he could 
not have pleaded harder to get me to give up my purpose. 
But I turned a deaf ear to all he said. Wiien he perceived 
at last that nothing could alter my determination, he ceased 
to urge, and for a while the deep silence was broken only by 
his sobs. I sat in marble resolution, with my eyes fixed upon 
vacancy, for in spirit I was already wrestling with the perils 
of the mountains, and my friend sat gazing at me in adoring 
admiration through his tears. At last he threw himself upon 
me in a loving embrace and exclaimed in broken tones : 

418 



AN ALPINE EXPEDITION. 419 

"Your Harris will never desert you. We will die to- 
gettier ! " 

I cheered the noble fellow with praises, and soon his feare 
were forgotten and he was eager for the adventure. He 
wanted to summon the guides at once and leave at 2 in the 
morning, as he supposed the custom was; but I explained 
that nobody was looking, at that hour; and that the start in 
the dark was not usually made from the village but from the 
first night's resting place on the mountain side. I said we 
would leave the village at 3 or 4 p. m. on the morrow ; mean- 
time he could notify the guides, and also let the public know 
of the attempt which we proposed to make. 

I went to bed, but not to sleep. No man can sleep when 
he is about to undertake one of these Alpine exploits. I 
tossed feverishly all night long, and was glad enough when 
1 heard the clock strike half past eleven and knew it was 
time to get up for dinner. I rose jaded and rusty, and went 
to the noon meal, where I found myself the centse of inter- 
est and curiosity ; for the news was already abroad. It is 
not easy to eat calmly when you are a lion, but it is very pleas- 
ant, nevertheless. 

As usual, at Zermatt, w^hen a great ascent is about to be 
undertaken, everybody, native and foreign, laid aside his own 
projects and took up a good position to observe the start. 
The expedition consisted of 198 persons, including the mules ; 
or 205, including the cows. As follows : 





Chiefs of Service. 




Subordinates. 




Myself. 




Veterinary Surgeon. 




Mr. Harris. 




Butler. 


17 


Guides. 


12 


Waiters. 


4 


Surgeons. 




Footman. 


1 


Geologist. 




Barber. 


1 


Botanist. 




Head Cook. 


3 


Chaplains. 


9 


Assistants. 


2 


Draftsmen. 


4 


Pastry Cooks. 


15 


Barkeepers. 


1 


Confectionery Artist. 


1 


Latinist. 







420 



READY FOR THE START. 



27 
44 
44 



16 

2 

22 

1 

1 

2,000 

1 

1 

143 

2 

1 

27 



Porters. 

JIules. 

Muleteers. 



Transpoktation, etc. 

3 Coarse Washers and Ironers. 

1 Fine ditto. 

7 Cows. 

2 Milkers. 



Total, 154 men, 51 animals. Grand Total, 205. 



Rations, etc. 
Cases Hams. 
Barrels Flour. 
Barrels Whiskey. 
Barrel Sugar 
Keg Lemons. 
Cigars. 
Barrel Pies. 
Ton of Pemmican- 
Pair Crutches. 
Barrels Arnica. 
Bale of Lint. 
Kegs Paregoric. 



25 
2 



29 

97 
5 
7 

22 

2 

154 



Apparatus. 
Spring Mattrasses. 
Hair ditto. 
Bedding for same. 
Mosquito Nets. 
Tents. 

Scientific Instruments, 
Ice-axes. 
Cases Dynamite. 
Cans Nitro-glycerine. 
40-foot Ladders. 
Miles of Rope. 
Umbrellas. 



It was full fonr o'clock in the afternoon before my caval- 
cade was entirely ready. At that hour it began to move. 
In point of numbers and spectacular effect, it was the most 
imposinpj expedition that had ever marched from Zermatt. 

1 commanded the chief guide to arrange the men and 
animals in single Ule, twelve feet apart, and lash them all 
together on a strong rope. He objected that the first two 
miles was a dead level, with plenty of room, and that the 
rope was never used except in very dangerous places. But 
I would not listen to that. My reading had taught me that 
many serious accidents had happened in the Alps simply from 
not having the people tied up soon enough ; I was not going 
to add one to the list. The guide then obeyed my order. 

When the procession stood at ease, roped together, and 
ready to move, I never saw a finer sight. It was 3,122 feet 
long — over half a mile ; every man but Harris and me was 
on foot, and had on his green veil and his blue goggles, and 
his white rag around his hat, and his coil of rope over one 
shoulder and under the other, and his ice-axe in his belt, and 



HARRIS AND MYSELF AT OUR POSTS. 



421 



carried his alpenstock in his left hand, his umbrella (closed,) 
in his right, and his crutches slung at his back. The burdens 
of tlie pack mules, and the horns of the cows, were decked 
with the Edelweiss and the Alpine rose. 

I and my agent were the only pei'sons mounted. We were 
in the post of danger in the extreme rear, and tied securely to 
five guides apiece. Our armor-bearers carried our ice-axes, 
alpenstocks and other implements for us. "We were mount- 





i\ Jf/ J 







Att TfEADT. 

ed upon very small donkeys, as a measure of safety ; in time 
of peril we could straighten our legs and stand up, and let 
the donkey walk from under. Still, I cannot recommend this 
sort of animal, — at least for excursions of mere pleasure, — 
because his ears interrupt the view. I and my agent possess- 
ed the regulation mountaineering costumes, but concluded 
to leave them behind. Out of respect for the great numbers 
of tourists of both sexes who would be assembled in front of 



422 



THE MOMENT OF DEPARTURE. 



the hotels to see us pass, and also out of respect for the many 
tourists, whom we expected to encounter on our expedition, 
we decided to make the ascent in 
evening dress. 

At 15 minutes past 4 I gave 
the command to move, and my 
subordinates passed it along the 
line. The great crowd in front 
of the Monte Hosa hotel parted 
in twain, with a cheer, as the pro- 
cession approached; and as the 
head of it was tiling by I gave the 
order, — " Unlim- 
ber — make ready 
— ^HOIST ! " 

— and with one 
impulse up went 
my half mile of 
u mb rellas. It 
w a s a beautiful 
sight, and a total 
surprise to the 
spectators. Noth- 
ing lilvc that had 
ever been seen in the Alps 
before. Tiie applause it 
brought forth was deeply 
gratifying to me, and I 
rode by with my plug hat 
in my hand to testify ray 
appreciation of it. It was 
the only testimony I could offer, for I 
was too full to speak. 

"We watered the caravan at the cold 
stream which rushes down a trough the makch. 

near the end of the village, and soon afterward left the haunts 




OUR FIRST CAMP, 425 

of civilization behind us. About half past 5 o'clock we ar- 
rived at a bridge which spans the Yisp, and after throwing 
over a detachment to see if it was safe, the caravan crossed 
without accident. The way now led, bj a gentle ascent, car- 
peted with fresh green grass, to the church of Winkelmatten. 
Without stopping to examine this edifice, I executed a flank 
movement to the right and crossed the bridge over the Findel- 
enbach, after first testing its strength. Here I deployed to 
the right again, and presently entered an inviting stretch 
of meadow land which was unoccupied save by a couple of 
deserted huts toward its furthest extremity. These meadows 
offered an excellent camping place. We pitched our tents, 
supped, established a proper guard, recorded the events of 
the day, and then went to bed. 

We rose at 2 in the morning and dressed by candle light. 
It was a dismal and chilly business. A few stars were shin- 
ing, but the general heavens were overcast, and the great 
shaft of the Matterhorn was draped in a sable pall of clouds,. 
The chief guide advised a delay ; he said he feared it waa 
going to rain. "We waited until nine o'clock, and then got 
away in tolerably clear weather. 

Our course led up some terrific steeps, densely wooded with 
larches and cedars, and traversed by paths which the rains 
had guttered and which were obstructed by loose stones. To 
add to the danger and inconvenience, we were constantly 
meeting returning tourists on foot or horseback, and as con- 
stantly being crowded and battered by ascending tourists who 
were in a hurry and wanted to get by. 

Our troubles thickened. About the middle of the after- 
noon the seventeen guides called a halt and: held a consulta- 
tion. After consulting an hour they said their first S'Uspicion 
remained intact, — that is to say, they believed they were lost, 
I asked if they did not know it ? Ko, they said, they Gouldrtjt 
absolutely know whether they were lost or not, because none* 
of them had ever been in that part of the country before.. 
They had a strong instinct that they were lost, but they had 
25 



426 ALMOST A PANIC. 

no proofs, — except that they did not know where they were. 
They had met no tourists for some time, and they considered 
that a suspicious sign. 

Plainly we were in an ugly fix. The guides were natural- 
ly unwilling to go alone and seek a way out of the difiicnlty ; 
so we all went together. For better security we nioved slow 
and cautiously, for the forest was very dense. "We did not 
move up the mountain, but around it, hoping to strike across 
the old trail. Toward nightfall, Mhen we were about tired 
out, we came up against a rock as big as a cottage. This 
barrier took all the remaining spirit out of the men, and a 
panic of fear and despair ensued. They moaned and w-ept, 
and said they should never see their homes and their dear 
ones again. Then they began to upbraid me for biingii g 
them upon this fatal expedition. Some even muttered threats 
against me. 

Clearly it was no time to show weakness. So ] made a 
speech in which I said that other Alp-climbers had been in 
as perilous a position as this, and yet by courage and perse- 
verance had escaped. I promised to stand by them, I prom- 
ised to rescue them. I closed by saying we had plenty of 
provisions to maintain us for quite a siege, — and did they 
suppose Zermatt would allow half a mile of men and mules 
to mysteriously disappear during any considerable time, right 
above their noses, and make no inquiries? No, Zermatt 
would send out searching-expeditions and we should be saved. 

This speech had a great effect. The men pitched the tents 
with some little show of cheerfulness, and we were snugly 
under cover when the night shut down. I now reaped the 
reward of my wisdom in providing one article which is not 
mentioned in any book of Alpine adventure but this. I re- 
fer to the paregoric. But for that beneficent drug, not one of 
those men would have slept a moment during that fearful 
night. But for that gentle persuader they must have tossed, 
nnsoothed, the night through; for the whisky was forme. 
Yes, they would have risen in the morning unfitted for their 



A SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 



427 



heavy task. As it was, everybody slept but ray agent and 
me, — only we two and the barkeepers. I would not permit 
myself to sleep at such a time. I considered myself responsi- 
ble for all those lives. I meant to be on hand and ready, in 
case of avalanches. I am aware now, that there were no ava- 
lanches up there, but I did not know it 
then. 

We watched the weather all through 
that awful night, and kept an eye on 
the barometer, to be prepared for the 
least change. There was not the slight- 
est change recorded by the instrument, 
durino; the whole time. Words cannot 
describe the comfortthat tliat friendly, 
hopeful, steadfast thing was to me in 
that season of trouble. It was a defect- 
ive barometer, and had no hand but 
the stationary brass pointer, but I did 
not know that until afterwai-d. If I 
should be in such a situation again, I 
should not wish for any barometer but 
that one. 

All hands rose at 2 in the morning 
and took breakfast, and as soon as it 
was ligh* we roped ourselves together 
and went at that rock. For some 
time we tried the hook-rope and other 
means of scaling it, but without success. 
That is without perfect success. The 
hook caught once, and Harris started 
up it hand over hand, but the hold broke and if there had 
not happened to be a chaplain sitting underneath at the time, 
Harris would certainly have been crippled. As it was, it was 
the chaplain. He took to his crutches, and I ordered the 
hook -rope to be laid aside. It was too dangerous an imple- 
ment where so many people were standing around. 




THE HOOK. 



428 



REMOVING OBSTACLES. 




We were puzzled for a while; then somebody thought of 
the ladders. One of these was leaned against the rock, and 

the men went up it tied together 
in couples. Another ladder was 
sent up for use in descending. 
At the end of half an hour every- 
body was ovei', and that rock was 
conquered. We gaVe our first 
grand shout of triumph. But the 
joy was short-lived, for somebody 
asked how we were going to get 
the animals over. 

This was a serious diflSculty ; in 
fact it was an impossibility. The 
courage of the men began to 
THE DISABLED CHAPLAIN. wavcr immediately ; once more 
we were tlireatened vvitl) a panic. But when the danger was 
most imminent, we were saved in a mysterious way. A mule 
which had attracted attention from the beginning by its dis- 
position to experi- 
ment, tried to eat 
a five-pound can of 
nitro-glycerine. 
This happened 
right along-side the 
rock. The explo- 
sion threw us all to 
the ground, and 
covered us with 
dirt and debris ; it L ^^^fc^ '^ 
frightened us ex- 
tremely, too, for 
the crash it made w^as deafening, and the violence of the shock 
made the ground tremble. However, we were grateful, for 
the rock was gone. Its place was occupied by a new cellar, 
about thirty feet across, by fifteen feet deep. The explosion 




TRYING EXPERIMENTS. 



BADLY LOST. 429 

was heard as far as Zermatt ; and an hour and a half after- 
ward, many citizens of that town were knocked down and 
quite seriously injured by descending portions of mule meat, 
frozen solid. This shows, better than any estimate in figures 
how high the experimenter went. 

We had nothing to do, now, but bridge the cellar and pro- 
ceed on our way. With a cheer the men went at their work. 
I attended to the engineering, myself. I appointed a strong 
detail to cut down trees with ice-axes and trim them for piers 
to support the bridge. This was a slow business, for ice-axes 
are not good to cut wood with. I caused my piers to be firm- 
ly set up in ranks in the cellar, and upon them I laid six of 
my forty-foot ladders, side by side, and laid six more on top 
of them. Upon this bridge I caused a bed of boughs to be 
spread, and on top of the boughs a bed of earth six inches 
deep. I stretched ropes upon either side to serve as railings, 
and then my bridge was complete. A train of elephants could 
have crossed it in safety and comfort. By nightfall the cara- 
van was on the other side and the ladders taken up. 

Next morning we went on in good spirits for a while, 
though our way was slow and diflScult, by reason of the steep 
and rocky nature of the ground and the thickness of the for- 
est ; but at last a dull despondency crept into the men's faces 
and it was apparent that not only they, but even the guides, 
were now convinced that we were lost. The fact that we still 
met no tourists was a circnmstance that was but too signifi- 
cant. Another thing seemed to suggest that we were not 
only lost, but very badly lost : for there must surely be search- 
ing-parties on the road before this time, yet we had seen no 
sign of them. 

Demoralization was spreading ; something must be done, 
and done quickly, too. Fortunately, I am not unfertile in 
expedients. I contrived one now which commended itself 
to all, for it promised well. I took three-quarters of a mile 
of rope and fastened one end of it around the waist of a 
guide, and told him to go and find the road, whilst the 



430 



A SHREWD EXPEDIENT. 



caravan waited. I instructed him to guide himself back by 
the rope, in case of failure ; in case of success, he was to give 
the rope a series of violent jerks, whereupon the Expedition 
would go to him at once. He departed, and in two minutes 
had disappeared among the trees. I payed out the rope my- 
self, while everybody watched the crawling thing with eagtr 
eyes. The rope crept away quite slowly, at times, at other 
times with some briskness. Twice or thrice we seemed to 
get the signal, and a shout was just ready to break from the 
men's lips when they perceived it was a false alarm. But at 
last, when over half a mile of rope had slidden away it stop- 
ped gliding and stood absolutely still, — one minute,^ — two 

minutes, — three, — while we held 
our breath and watched. 

Was the guide resting ? Was he 
scanning the country from some 
high point? Was he inquiring of 
a chance mountaineer? Stop, — 
had he fainted from excess of fa- 
tigue and anxiety ? 

This thought gave us a shock. 
I was in the very act of detailing 
an expedition to succor him, when 
the cord was assailed with a series 
of such frantic jerks that I could 
saved! saved! hardly keep hold of it. The huzza 

that went up, then, was good to hear. "Saved! saved!" 
was the word that rang out, all down the long rank of the 
caravan. 

We rose up and started at once. We found the route to 
be good enough for a while, but it began to grow difficult, 
by and by, and this feature steadily increased. When we 
judged we had gone half a mile, we momently expected to 
see the guide ; but no, he was not visible anywhere ; neither 
was he waiting, for the rope "was still moving, consequently 
he was doing the same. This argued that he had not found 




laYSTERIOUS AND EXASPERATING. 



431 



the road, jet, but was marching to it with some peasant. 
There was nothing for us to do but plod along, — and this we 
did. At the end of three hours we were still plodding. This 
was not only mysterious, but exasperating. And very fa- 
tiguing, too ; for we had tried hard, along at first, to catch 
up with the guide, but had only fagged ourselves, in vain ; 
for although he was traveling slowly he was yet able to go' 
faster than the hampered caravan over such ground. 

At tiiree in the afternoon we were nearly dead with ex- 
haustion, — and still the rope was slowly gliding out. The 
murmurs against the guide had been growing, steadily, and 
at last they were become loud and savage. A mutiny ensu- 
ed. The men refused to proceed. They declared that we 
had been traveling over and over the same ground all day, in 
a kind of circle. They demanded that our end of the rope be 
made fast to a tree, so as to halt the guide until we could 
overtake him and kill him. This was not an unreasonable 
requirement, so I gave the order. 

As soon as the rope was tied, the Expedition moved for- 
ward with that alacrity which the thirst for vengeance usually 
inspires. But after a tiresome march of almost half a mile, 




TWENTY MINUTES' WORK. 

we came to a hill covered thick with a crumbly rubbish of 
stones, and so steep that no man of us all was now in a 



432 



A CRUEL DISAPPOINTMENT. 



condition to climb it. Every attempt failed, and ended in 
crippling somebody. Within twenty minntes 1 had five men 
on crutches. Whenever a climber tried to assist himself by the 
rope, it yielded and let him tumble backwards. The frequen- 
cy of this result suggested an idea to me. I ordered the cara- 
van to ' bout face and form in marching order; I then made 
the tow-rope fast to the rear mule, and gave the command, — 
" Mark time — by the right flank — forward — march ! " 
The procession began to move, to the impressive strains 
of a battle-chant, and I said to myself, " Now, if the rope 
don't break I judge thi 
the camp." I watched t 
the hill, and presently 



fixed for triumpl: 
ed by a bitter 
ment: there 
tied to the 
only a very 
blaak ram. 
baffled Ex- 
ed all bounds 
to wreak 
geance 
But I 
prey. 




that guide into 
) gliding down 
hen I was all 
I was confront- 
disappoint- 
"was no guide 
rope, it -was 
indignant old 
Thefuryof the 
ition ex'ieed- 
even wanted 
their unreasoning ven- 
on this innocent dumb brute, 
stood between them and their 
menaced by a bristling wall of 
ice-axes and alpenstocks, and proclaimed that there was but 
one road to this murder, and it was directly over my corse. 
Even as I spr>ke I saw that my doom was sealed, except a 
miracle supervened to divert thefe madmen from their fell 
purpose. 1 see that sickening w-all of Meapons now ; I see 
that advancing host as I saw it then, I see the hate in those 
cruel eyes ; I remember how I drooped my head upon ray 
breast, I feel again the sudden earthquake shock in my 
rear, administered by the very ram I was sacrificing my- 
self to save. I hear once more the typhoon of laughter that 



THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED. 



433 




burst from the assaulting column as I clove it fiom van to 
rear like a Sepoy shot from a Rodman gun. 

1 was saved. Yes, I was saved, and by the merciful in- 
stinct of ingratitude which nature had planted in tl)e breast 
of that treacherous beast. The grace which eloquence had 

failed to work in those 
men's hearts, had been 
wrought by a langh. The 
ram was set free and my 
life was 
spared. 

We lived 
to find out 
that that 
guide had 
deserted us 

THE MIRACLE. RS SOOn 88 lie 

had placed a half mile between himself and us. To avert 
suspicion, he had judged it best that the line should continue 
to move ; so he caught that ram, and at the time that he 
was sitting on it making the rope fast to it, we were imagin- 
ing that he was lying in a swoon, overcome by fatigue and 
distress. When he allowed the ram to get up it fell to 
plunging around, trying to rid itself of the rope, and this 
was the signal which we had risen up with glad shouts to 
obey. We had followed this ram round and round in a circle 
all day — a thing which was proven by the discovery that we 
had watered the Expedition seven times at one and the same 
spring in seven hours. As expert a woodman as I am, I had 
somehow failed to notice this until ray attention was called 
to it by a hog. This hog was always wallowing there, and 
as he was the only hog we saw, his frequent repetition, to- 
gether with his unvarying similarity to himself, finally 
caused me to reflect that he must be the same hog, and this 
led me to the deduction that this must be the same spring, 
also, — which indeed it was. 



434 



THE GUIDES FRIEND. 



I made a note of this curious thing, as showing in a sti'ik- 
ino- manner the relative difference between glacial action and 
the action of the hog. It is now a well established fact, that 
glaciers m^jve; 1 consider that my observations go to show, 
with equal conclusiveness, that a hog in a spring does not 
move. I shall be glad to receive tlie opinions of other ob- 
servers upon this point. 

To return, for an explanatory moment, to that guide, and 
then I shall be done with him. After leaving the ram tied 
to the rope, he had wandered at large a while, and then hap- 
pened to run across a cow. Judging that a cow would natur- 
ally know more than a guide, he took her by the tail, and 
the result justified his judgment. She nibbled her leisurely 
way down hill till it was near milking time, then she struck 
for home and towed him into Zermatt. 




4xfwi<«v: 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

WE went into camp on that wild spot to which that ram 
had brought us. The men were greatly fatigued. 
Their conviction that we were lost was forgotten in tlie cheer 
of a good supper, and before the reaction had a chance to set 
in, I loaded them up with paregoric and put them to bed. 

Next morning I was considering in my mind our desperate 
situation and trying to think of a remedy, when Harris came 
to me with a Baedeker map which showed conclusively that 
the mountain we were on was still in Switzerland, — yes, 
every part of it was in Switzerland. So we were not lost, 
after all. This was an immense relief; it lifted the weight 
of two such mountains from my breast. I immediately had 
the news disseminated and the map exhibited. The eifect 
was wonderful. As soon as the men saw with their own eyes 
that they knew where they were, and that it was only the 
summit that was lost and not themselves, they cheered up 
instantly and said with one accord, let the summit take care 
of itself, they were not interested in its troubles. 

Our distresses being at an end, I now determined to rest 
the men in camp and give the scientific department of the 
Expedition a chance. First, I made a barometric observation, 
to get our altitude, but I could not perceive that there was 
any result. I knew, by my scientific reading, that either 
thermometers or barometers ought to be boiled, to make them 

435 



436 



EXPERIMENTS WITH THE BAROMETER. 



accurate; I did not know which it was, so I boiled both. 
There was still no result ; so I examined these instruments 
and discovered that they possessed radical blemishes : the 
barometer had no hand but the brass pointer and the ball of 
the thermometer was stuffed with tin foil. I might have 
boiled those things to rags, and never found out anything. 

I hunted up another barometer ; it was new and perfect. 
I boiled it half an hour in a pot of bean soup w^hicli the cooks 
were making. The result was unexpected : the instrument 
was not affected at all, but there was such a strong barometer 
taste to the soup that the head cook, who was a most consci- 



^n^n 



'^(^X. 



entious person, changed its 
name in the bill of fare. The 
dish was so greatly liked by 
all, that I ordered the cook 
to have barometer sonp 
every day. It was believed 
that the barometer might 
eventually be injured, but I 
did not care for that. I had 
demonstrated to my satis- 
faction that it could not tell 
how high a mountain was, 
therefore I had no real use 
SCIENTIFIC RESEARCHES. for it. Clianges of the 

weather I could take care of without it ; I did not wish to 
know when the weather was going to be good, what I want- 
ed to know was when it w^as going to be bad, and this I could 
find out from Harris's corns. Harris had had his corns tested 
and regulated at the government observatory in Heidelberg, 
and one could depend upon them with confidence. So I 
transferred the new barometer to the cooking department, to 
be used for the official mess. It was found that even a 
pretty fair article of soup could be made with the defective 
barometer ; so I allowed that one to be transferred to the 
subordinate messes. 




AN INTERESTING SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERY. 437 

1 next boiled the thermometer, and got a most excellent 
result ; the mercury went up to about 200® Farenheit. In 
the opinion of the other scientists of the Expedition, this seem- 
ed to indicate that we had attained the extraordinary altitude 
of 200,000 feet above sea level. Science places the line of 
eternal snow at about 10,000 feet above sea level. There 
was no snow where we were, consequently it was proven that 
the eternal snow line ceases somewhere above the 10,000 
foot level and does not begin any more. This was an inter 
esting fact, and one which had not been observed by any ob- 
server before. It was as valuable as interesting, too, since it 
would open up the deserted summits of the highest Alps to 
population and agriculture. It was a proud thing to be where 
we were, yet it caused us a pang to reflect that but for that 
ram we might just as well have been 200,000 feet higher. 

The success of my last experiment induced me to try an 
experiment with my photographic apparatus. I got it out, 
and boiled one of my cameras, but the thing was a failure: 
it made the wood swell up and burst, and I could not see that 
the lenses were any better than they were before. 

I now concluded to boil a guide. It might improve him, 
it could not impair his usefulness. But I was not allowed to 
proceed. Guides have no feeling for science, and this one 
would not consent to be made uncomfortable in its interest. 
In the midst of my scientific work, one of those needless 
accidents happened which are always occurring among the ig- 
norant and thoughtless. A porter shot at a chamois and miss- 
ed it and crippled tlie Latinist. This was not a serious mat- 
ter to me, for a Latinist's duties are as well performed on 
crutches as otherwise, — but the fact remained that if the Lat- 
inist had not happened to be in the way a mule would have 
got that load. That would have been quite another matter, 
for when it comes down to a question of value there is a pal- 
pable difference between a Latinist and a mule. I could not 
depend on having a Latinist in the right place every time ; 
80, to make things safe, I ordered that in future the chamois 



438 LEARNED BY EXPERIENCE. 

must not be hunted within the limits of the camp with any 
other weapon than the forefinger. 

My nerves had hardly grown quiet after this affair when 
they got another shake-up, — one which utterly unmanned me 
for a moment : a rumor swept suddenly through the camp 
that one of the barkeepers had fallen over a precipice! 

However, it turned out that it was only a chaplain. I had 
laid in an extra force of chaplains, purposely to be prepared 
for emergencies like this, but by some unaccountable over- 
sight had come away rather short-handed in the matter of 
barkeepers. 

On the following morning we moved on, well refreshed 
and in good spirits. I remember this day with peculiar pleas- 
ure, because it saw our road restored to us. Yes. we found 
our road again, and in quite an extraordinary way. We had 
plodded along some two hours and a half, when we came up^ 
against a solid mass of rock about twenty feet high. I did 
not need to be instructed by a mule this time. — I was already 
beginning to know more than any mule in the Expedition. — 
I at once put in a blast of dj'namite, and lifted that rock out 
of the way. But to my surprise and mortification, I found 
tiiat there had been a chalet on top of it. 

I picked up such members of the familj^ as fell in my vi- 
cinity, and subordinates of my corps collected the rest. None 
of these poor people were injured, happily, but they were 
much annoyed. I explained to the head chaleteer just how 
the thing happened, and that I was only searching for the 
road, and would certainly have given him timely notice if I 
had known he was up there. I said I had meant no harm, 
and hoped I had not lowered myself in his estimation by rais- 
ing him a few rods in the air. I said many other judicious 
things, and finally when I offered to rebuild his chalet, and 
pay for breakages, and throw in the cellar, he was mollified 
and satisfied. He hadn't any cellar at all, before; he would 
not have as good a view, now, as formerly, but what he had 
lost in view he had gained in cellar, by exact measurement. 



WE ERECT A CHALET. 



439 



He said there wasn't another hole like that in the mountains, 

— and he would have been right if the late mule had not 

tried to eat 

upthenitro- ^ -v. \ 

glycerine. J^ \d^ 

I put a ^^ V^ 

hundred 
and sixteen 
men at 
work, and 
they rebuilt 
the chalet 
from its own 
debris in fif- 
teen min- 
utes. It 
was a good 
deal more 
picturesque 
than it was 
before, too. 
The man 
said we were 
now on the 
Feli-Stutz, 
above the 
S c h w e g- 
raatt, — i n - 
formation 
which I was 
glad to get, 
since it gave mountain chalet. 

us our position to a degree of particularity which we had not 
been accustomed to for a day or so. "We also learned that 
we were standing at the foot of the Eiffclherg proper, and 
that the initial chapter of our work was completed. 




440 A BUSINESS INTERFERED WITH. 

We had a fine view, from here, of the energetic Yisp, as 
it makes its first plunge into the world from under a huge 
arch, of solid ice, worn through the foot-wall of the great Gor- 
ner Glacier; and we could also see the Furggenbacli, which 
is the outlet of the Furggen Glacier. 

The mule-road to the summit of the Eiff'elberg passed right 
in front of the chalet, a circumstance which we almost fm- 
mediately noticed, because a procession of tourists was filing 
along it pretty much all the time*. The chaleteer's business 
consisted in furnishing refiesliments to tourists. Mj blaft 
had interrupted this trade for a few minutes, by breaking all 
the bottles on the place ; but I gave the man a lot of whisky 
to sell for Al})ine champaign, and a lot of vinegar which would 
answer for Rhine wine, consequently trade was soon as brisk 
as ever. 

Leaving the Expedition outside to rest, I quartered myself 
in the chalet, with Harris, purposing to conect my journals 
and scientific observations before continuing the ascent. I 
had hardly begun my work when a tall, eiender, vigorous 
Amej^^ican youth of about twenty-three, mIio was on his M'ay 
down the mountain, entered and came toward me with that 
breezy self complacency which is the adolescent's idea of the 
well bred ease of the man of the world. His hair was short 
and parted accurately in the middle, and he had all the look 
of an American person who would be likely to begin his sig- 
nature with an initial, and spell his middle name out. He 
introduced himself, smiling a smirky smile borrowed from 
the courtiers of the stage, extended a fair-skinned talon, and 
whilst he gripped my hand in it he bent his body forward 
three times at the hips, as the stage-conrtier does, and said 
in the airiest and most condescending and patronizing way, 
— I quote his exact language, — 

"Yery glad to make your acquaintance, 'm sure; very 
glad indeed, assure you. I've read all your little eiForts and 

*" Pretty much" may not be elegant Enelisb, hut it is hiph time it was. 
There is no elegant word or phrase which means just wliat it means. — M. T. 



AN AMERICAN SPECIMEN. 



441 



greatly admired them, and when I heard you were here, 



I indicated a chair, and he sat down. This grandee 
was the grandson of an American of considerable note in his 
day, and not wholly forgotten yet, — a man who came so near 
being a great man 
that he was quite 
generally accoun- 
ted one while he 
lived. 

I slowly paced 
the floor, ponder- 
ing scientific 
problems, and 
heard this con- 
versation : 

Gr ands on . 
First visit to Eu- 



rope 




THE GHANDSOir. 



Harris. Mine? 
Yes. 

G. S. (With 
a soft reminiscent 
sigh susTgestive of 
by -gone joys that 
may be tasted in 
their freshness 
but once.) Ah, 1 
know what it is to you. A first visit !— ah, the romance 
of it ! I wish I could feel it again. 

H. Yes, I find it exceeds all my dreams. It is enchant- 
ment. I go. . . . 

G. S. (With a dainty gesture of the hand signifying;; 
" Spare me your callow enthusiasms, good friend.") Yep, / 
know, I know; you go to cathedrals, and exclaim; and you 
drag through league-long picture galleries and exclaim ; and! 
26 



442 INTERESTING CONVERSATION. - 

you stand here, and there, and yonder, upon historic ground, 
and continue to exclaim ; and you are permeated with your 
first crude conceptions of Art, and are proud and happy. Ah, 
yes, proud and happy^ — that expresses it. Yes-yes, enjoy it 
— it is right, — it is an innocent revel. 

H. And you? Don't you do these things now? 

G. 8. I ! O, that is very good ! My dear eir, when you 
are as old a traveler as I am, you will not ask such a question 
as that. Z visit the regulation gallery, moon around the reg- 
ulation cathedral, do the worn round of the regulation sights, 
yetf — Excuse me! 

II. Well what do yoii do, then ? 

G. S. Do ? I flit, — and flit, — for I am ever on the wing, 
— but I avoid the herd. To-day I am in Paris, to-morrow in 
Berlin, anon in Rome ; but you would look for me in vain 
in the galleries of the Louvre or the common resorts of the 
gazers in those other capitals. If you would find me, you 
must look in the unvisited nooks and corners where others 
never think of going. One day you will find me making 
myself at home in some obscure peasant's cabin, another 
day you will find me in some forgotten castle worshiping 
some little gem of art which the careless eye has overlooked 
and which the unexperienced would despise; again you will 
find me a guest in the inner sanctuaries of palaces while the 
herd is content to get a hurried glimpse of the unused cham- 
bers by feeing a servant. 

H. You are a guest in such places? 

G. S. And a welcome one. 

U. It is surprising. How does it come? 

G. S. My grandfather's name is a passport to all the 
courts in Europe. I have only to utter that name and every 
door is open to me. 1 flit from court to court at my own 
free will and pleasure, and am always welcome. I am as 
much at home in the palaces of Europe as yon are among 
your relatives. I know every titled person in Europe, 1 
think. I have my pockets full of invitations all the time. 



AN INVETERATE TRAVELER. 443 

I am under promise now, to go to Italy, where I am to be 
the guest of a succession of the noblest houses in the land. 
In Berlin my life is a continued round of gayety in the im- 
perial palace It is the same, wherever I go. 

n. It must be very j)leasant. But it must make Boston 
seem a little slow when you are at home. 

Q. S. Yes, of course it does. But I don't go home much. 
There's no life there — little to feed a man's higher nature. 
Boston's very narrow, you know. She doesn't know it, and 
you couldn't convince her of it — so 1 say nothing when I'm 
there : wliere's the use ? Yes, Boston is very narrow, but 
she has such a good opinion of herself that she can't see it. 
A man who has traveled as much as I have, and seen as much 
of the world, sees it plain enough, but he can't cure it, you 
know, so the. best way is to leave it and seek a sphere which 
is more in harmony with his tastes and cultui'e. I run across 
there, once a year;, perhaps, when I have nothing important 
on hand, but I'm ver}'^ soon back again. I spend my time in 
Europe. 

S. 1 see. You map out your plans and 

G. S. iSTo, excuse me. I don't map out any plans. I 
simply follow the inclination of the day. I am limited by 
no ties, no requirements, I am not bound in any way. I am 
too old a traveler to hamper myself with deliberate purposes. 
I am simply a traveler — an inveterate traveler— a man of 
the world, in a word, — I can call myself by no other name. 
I do not say, " I am going here, or I am going there" — I 
say nothing at all, I only act. For instance, next week you 
may find me the guest of a grandee of Spain, or you may find 
me off for Venice, or flitting toward Dresden. I shall prob- 
ably go to Egypt presently ; friends will say to friends, '• He 
is at the Nile cataracts " — and at that very moment they will 
be surprised to learn that I'm away off yonder in India some- 
where. I am a constant surprise to people. They are always 
saying, " Yes, he was in Jeru.salem when we heard of him 
last, but goodness knows where he is now." 



444 HE HAD A GRANDFATHER. 

Present! J? the Grandson rose to leave — discovered lie had 
an appointment with some Emperor, perhaps. He did his gra- 
ces over again : gripped me witli one talon, at arm's length, 
pressed his hat against his stomach with tlie other, bent his 
body in the middle three times, murmuring, — 

"Pleasure, 'm sure; great pleasure, 'm sure. Wish you 
much success." 

Then he removed his gracious presence. It is a great and 
solemn thing to have a grandfather. 

I have not purposed to misrepresent this boy in any way, 
for what little indignation he excited in me soon passed and 
left nothing behind it but compassion. One cannot keep up 
a grudge against a vacuum. I have tried to repeat the lad's 
very words ; if I have failed anywhere I have at least not 
failed to reproduce the marrow and meaning of what he said. 
He and the innocent chatterbox whom I met on the Swiss 
lake are the most unique and interesting specimens of Young 
America I came across during my foreign tramping. I have 




OCCASIONAI.I.Y IMKT WITH. 

made honest portraits of them, not caricatures. Thfl \?-rand- 
son of twenty-three referred to himself five or six times as an 
"old traveler," and as manv as three times, (with a serene 
complacency which was maddening,) as a " man of the world." 



ARRIVAL AT THE RIFFELBERG HOTEL. 4.45 

There was something very delicious about his leaving Bos- 
ton to her "narrowness," unreproved and uninstrueted. 

I formed the caravan in marching order, presently, and 
after riding down the line to see that it was properly roped 
together, gave the command to proceed. In a little while 
the road carried us to open, grassy land. We were above the 
troublesome forest, noM^, and had an uninterrupted view, 
straight before us, of our summit, — the snmmit of the Eifftl- 
berg. 

We followed the mule road, a zigzag course, now to the 
right, now to the left, but always up, and always crowded and 
incommoded by going and coming files of reckless tourists 
who were never, in a single instance, tied together. I Mas 
obliged to exert the utmost care and caution, for in many 
places the road was not two yards wide, and often the lower 
side of it sloped away in slanting precipices eight and even 
nine feet deep. I had to encourage the men constantly, to 
keep them from giving way to their unmanly fears. 

We might have made the summit before night, but for a 
delay caused by the loss of an umbrella. I was for allowing 
the umbrella to remain lost, but the men murmured, and with 
reason, for in this exposed region we stood in peculiar need 
of protection against avalanches ; so I went into camp and 
detached a strong party to go after the missing article. 

The difficulties of the next morning were severe, but our 
coura2;e was high, for our goal was near. At noon we con- 
quered the last impediment — we stood at last upon the sum- 
mit, and without the loss of a single man except the mule that 
ate the glycerine. Our great achievement was achieved — the 
possibility of the impossible was demonstrated, and Harris 
and T walked proudly into the great dining room of the Rif- 
felberg Hotel and stood our alpenstocks up in the corner. 

Yes, I had made the grand ascent ; but it was a mistake 
to do it in evening dress. The plug hats were battered, the 
swallow-tails were fluttering rags, mud added no grace, the 
general effect was unpleasant and even disreputable. 



446 



A FOOL-HARDY EXPLOIT. 



There were about seventy-five tourists at the hotel, — 
maiulj ladies and little children,— and they gave us an 
admiring welcome which paid us for all our privations and 
eufi'erings. The ascent had been made, and the names and 




SUMMIT OF THE CORNER GEAT. 

dates now stand recorded on a stone monument there to prove 
it to all future tourists. 

I boiled a thermometer and took an altitude, with a most 
curious result : the siimm.it was not as high as the point on 
the mountain side where 1 had talcen the first altitude. Sus- 
pecting that I had made an important discovery, I prepared 
to verify it. There happened to be a still higher summit 
(called the Gorner Grat,) above the hotel, and notwithstand- 
ing the fact that it overlooks a glacier from a dizzy height, 
and that the ascent is difficult and dangerous, I resolved to 
venture up there and boil a thermometer. So I sent a strong 
party, with some borrowed hoes, in charge of tw^o chiefs ot 
service, to dig a stairway in the soil all the way, and this 1 
ascended, roped to the guides. This breezy height was the 



FAITH IN THERMOMETERS. 



447 



summit proper — so I accomplislied even more than I had 
originally purposed to do. This fool-hardy exploit is record- 
ed on another stone monument. 

I boiled my thermometer, and sure enough, this spot, 
which purported to be 2,000 feet higher than the locality of 
'ihe hotel, turned out to be 9,000 feet Lower. Thus the fact 

WFiimiiiiii'i 1,1 1/ "wi'n/mnff^ 

1 




CHIEFS OF THE ADVANCE GUARD. 

was clearly demonstrated, that, above a certain poird., the high. 
67 a point seem.s to he, the lower it actually is. Our ascent it- 
selt was a great achievement, but this contribution to science 
was an inconceivably greater matter. 

Cavilers object that water boils at a lower and lower tem- 
perature the higher and higher you go, and hence the appar- 
ent anomaly. I answer that I do not base my theory npon 
what the boiling water does, but upon what a boiled ther- 
mometer savs. You can't £:o behind the thermometer. 



448 



THE MATTER HORN. 



I had a magnificent view of Monte Rosa, and apparently 
all the rest of the Alpine world, from that high place. All 
the circling horizon was piled high with a mighty tumult of 
snowy crests. One might have imagined he saw before him 
the tented camps of a beleaguering host of BrobdignngiMns. 




MY PICTITRB OF THE MATTERHOEN. 



But lonely, conspicuous, and superb, rose that wonderful 
upright w^edge, the Matterhorn. Its precipitous sides were 
powdered over with snow, and the upper half hidden in 
thick clouds which now and then dissolved to cobweb films 



Note — I had the very unusual luck to catch one little momentary glimpse 
of the Matterhiirn wholly unencumbered by clouds. I leveled my photo- 
graphic apparatus at it without the loss of an instant, and should have got 
an elegant picture if my donkey liad not interf^jred. It was my purpose to 
draw this photograph all by myself for my boob, but was oblised to put 
the mountain part of it into the hands of the professional artist because I 
found I could not do landscape well. 



ASPECT OF MOUNTAIN SNOW. 449 

and gave brief glimpses of the imposing tower as tlirongli a 
veil. A little later the Matterhorn took to himself the sem- 
blance of a volcano ; he was stripped naked to his apex — around 
this circled vast wreaths of white cloud which strung slowly 
out and streamed away slantwise toward the sun, a twenty- 
mile stretch of rolling and tumbling vapor, and looking just 
as if it were pouring out of a crater. Later again, one of the 
mountain's sides was clean and clear, and another side densely 
clothed from base to summit in thick smoke-like cloud which 
feathered oif and blew around the shaft's sharp edge like the 
smoke around the corners of a burning building. The Mat- 
terhorn is always experimenting, and always gets up fine 
eflects, too. In the sunset, when all the lower world is palled 
in gloom, it points toward heaven out of the pervading 
blackness like a finger of fire. In the sunrise — well, they 
say it is very fine in the sunrise. 

Authorities agree that there is no such tremendous " lay- 
out" of snowy Alpine magnitude, grandeur and sublimity 
to be seen from any other accessible point as the tourist may 
see from the summit of the Eiffelberg. Therefore, let the 
tourist rope himself up and go there ; for 1 have shown that 
with nerve, caution, and judgment, the thing can be done. 

I wish to add one remark, here, — in parentheses, so to 
speak, — suggested by the word " snowy," which I have just 
used. We have all seen hills and mountains and levels with 
snow on them, and so we think we know all the aspects and 
effects produced by snow. But indeed we do not, until we 
have seen the Alps. Possibly mass and distance add some- 
thing, — at any rate something is added. Among other 
noticeable things, there is a dazzling, intense whiteness about 
the distant Alpine snow, when the sun is on it, Mdiicli one 
recognizes as peculiar, and not familiar to the eye. The 
snow which one is accustomed to, has a tint to it, — painters 
usually give it a bluish cast, — but there is no perceptible 
tint to the distant Alpine snow when it is trying to look its 
whitest. As to the unimaginable splendor of it when the 
sun is blazing down on it, — well, it simply is unimaginable. 



chapteh xxxtx. 

A GUIDE book is a queer thing. The reader has jnst 
seen what a man who undertakes the great ascent fiom 
Zermatt to the Riffelberg hotel must experience. Yet Baed- 
eker makes these strange statements concerning this matter: 

1. Distance, — 3 hours. 

2. The road cannot he mistaken. 

3. Guide unnecessary. 

4. Distance from Riffelberg hotel to the Gorner Grat, 
one hour and a half. 

5. Ascent simple and easy. Guide unnecessary. 

6. Elevation of Zermatt above sea level, 5,315 feet. 

7. Elevation of Riffelberg hotel above sea level, 8,429 
feet. 

8. Elevation of the Gorner Grat above sea level, 10,289 
feet. 

I have pretty effectually throttled these errors by sending 
him the following demonstrated facts: 

1. Distance from Zermatt to Riffelberg hotel, 7 days. 

2. The road can be mistaken. If I am the first that did 
it, I want the credit of it, too. 

3. Guides are necessary, for none but a native can read 
those finger-boards. 

4. The estimate of the elevation of the several localities 
above sea level is pretty correct — for Baedeker. He only 

450 



PLANS FOR OUR RETURN CONSIDERED. 4,51 

misses it about a hundred and eighty or ninety thousand 
feet. 

I found my arnica invaluable. My men were suffering 
excruciatingly, from the friction of sitting down so much. 
During two or three days, not one of them was able to do 
more than lie down or walk about; yet so effective was the 
arnica, that on the fourth all were able to sit up. I consider, 
that, more than to anything else, I owe the success of our 
great undertaking to arnica and paregoric. 

My men being restored to health and strength, my main 
perplexity, now, was how to get them down the mountain 
again. I was not willing to expose the brave fellows to the 
perils, fatigues, and hardships of that fearful route again if 
it could be helped. First I thought of balloons ; but of course 
I had to give that idea up, for balloons were not procurable. 
I thought of several other expedients, but upon consideration 
discarded them, for cause. But at last I hit it. I was aware 
that tlie movement of glaciers is an established fact, for I 
had read it in Baedeker ; so I resolved to take passage for 
Zermatt on the great Gorner Glacier. 

Yery good. The next thing was, how to get down to the 
glacier comfortably, — for the mule-road to it was long, and 
winding, and wearisome. I set my mind at work, and soon 
thought out a plan. One looks straight down upon the vast 
frozen river called the Gorner Glacier, from the Gorner Grat, 
a sheer precipice 1200 feet high. We had 154 umbrellas, 
— and what is an umbrella but a parachute? 

1 mentioned this noble idea to Harris, with enthusiasm, 
and was about to order the Expedition to form on the Gor- 
ner Grat, with their umbrellas, and prepare for flight by pla- 
toons, each platoon in command of a guide, when Harris stop- 
ped me and urged me not to be too hasty. He asked me if 
this method of descending the Alps had ever been tried be- 
fore. I said no, I had not heard of an instance. Then, in 
his opinion, it was a matter of considerable gravity; in his 
opinion it would not be well to send the whole command 



452 HARRIS DECLINES PROPOSED HONORS. 

o'rer the dliff at once: a better way would be to send down 
a single individual, tirst, and see how he fared. 

I saw the wisdom of this idea instantly. I said as much, 
and thanked my agent cordially, and told him to tahe his 
nmbrella and try the thing right away, and wave his hat when 
he got down, if he struck in a soft place, and then I would 
ship the rest right along. 

Harris was greatly touched with this mark of confidence, 
and said so, in a voice that had a perceptible tremble in it ; 
but at the same time he said he did not feel himself Morthy 
of so conspicuous a favor; that it might cause jealousy in the 
command, for there were plenty who would not hesitate to 
say he had used underhand means to get the appointment, 
whereas his conscience would bear him witness that he had 
not sought it at all, nor even, in his secret heart, desired it. 
I said these words did him extreme credit, but tliathe must 
not throw away the imperishable distinction of being the first 
man to descend an Alp per parachute, simply to save the feel- 
ings of some envious underlings. No, I said, he wiist accept 
the appointment, — it w^as no longer an invitation, it was a 
command. 

He thanked me with effusion, and said tliat putting the 
thing in this form removed every objection. He retired, and 
soon returned with his umbrella, his eyes flaming with grati- 
tude and his cheeks pallid with joy. Just then the head guide 
passed along. Harris's expression changed to one of infinite 
tenderness, and he said, — 

" That man did me a cruel injury four days ago, and I said 
in ra}^ lieai't lie should lire to perceive and confess that the 
only noble revenge a man can take upon his enemy is to re- 
turn good for evil. I resign in his favor. Appoint him."— 
I threw my arms around the generous fellow and said, — 
" Harris, you are the noblest soul that lives. You sliall 
not regret this sublime act, neither shall the world fail to 
know of it. You shall have opportunities far transcending 
this one, too, if I live, — remember that." , 



STRANGE DISREGARD OF FAME. 



453 



I called tlie head guide to me and appointed liira on the 
spot. But the thing aroused no enthusiasm in him. He did 
not take to tlie idea at all. He said, — 

"Tie myself to an umbrella and jump over the Gorner 
Grat! Excuse 
me, there are 
a great many 
pleasanter 
roads to the 
devil than 
that." 

Upon a dis- 
cussion of the 
subject with 
hira, i*^^ ai^pear 




that he con- 
sidered the pro- 
ject distinctly 
and decidedly 
dangerous. I 
was not convin- 
ced, yet 1 was 
not willing to 
I try the experi- 
ment in any 

EVERYBODY HAD AN EXCUSE. riskv Way that 

is, in a way that might cripple the strength and efficiency 
of the Expedition. I was about at my wits' end when it 
occurred to me to try it on the Latinist. 



4.54 A MAGNIFICENT IDEA ABANDONED. 

He was called in. Bat he declined, on the plea of inexpe- 
rience diffidence in public, lack of curiosity, and I don't know 
what all. Another man declined on account of a cold in the 
head • thouo-ht he ought to avoid exposure. Another could 
not jump well— never could jump well — did not believe he 
could jump so far without long and patient practice. Anoth- 
er was afraid it was going to rain, and his umbrella had a 
hole in it. Everybody had an excuse. The result was what 
the reader has by this time guessed : the most magnificent idea 
that was ever conceived had to be abandoned, from sheer lack 
of a person with enterprise enough to carry it out. Yes, I 
actually had to give that thing up, — whilst doubtless 1 should 
live to see somebody use it and take all the credit from me. 

Well, I had to go overland— there was no other way. I 
marched the Expedition down the steep and tedious mule- 
path and took up as good a position as I could upon the mid- 
dle of the Glacier — because Baedeker said the middle part 
travels the fastest. As a measure of economy, however, I put 
some of the heavier baggage on the shoreward partSj to go 
as slow freight. 

I waited and waited, but the Glacier did not move. Night 
was coming on, the darkness began to gatlier — still we did 
not budge. It occurrei to me then, that there might be a 
time-table in Baedeker : it would be well to find out the 
hours of starting. I called for the book — it could not be 
found. Bradshaw would certainly contain a time-table : but 
no Bradshaw could be found. 

Very well, I must make the best of the situation. So I 
pitched the tents, picketed the animals, milked the cows, had 
supper, paregoricked the men, established the watch, and 
went to bed — with orders to call me as soon as we came in 
sight of Zermatt. 

I awoke about half past ten, next morning, and looked 
around. We hadn't budged a peg! At first I could not un- 
derstand it : then it occurred to me that the old thing must 
be aground. So I cut down some trees and rigged a spar on 



A SUPPOSED LEAK. 



455 



the starboard and another on the port side, and fooled away 
upwards of three hours trying to spar her off. But it was 
no use. She was half a uiile wide and lifteen or twenty miles 
long, and there was no telling just whereabouts she was 
aground. The men began to show uneasiness, too, and pres- 
ently they came flying to me with ashy faces, saying she had 
sprung a leak. 

Nothing but my cool behavior at this c itical time saved 



us from another panic. I ordered them 
me the place. They led me to a spot 
huge boulder lay in a 
of clear and brilliant 
It did look like a pretty 
but I kept that to my- 
made a pump and set 
to work to pump out 
the glacier. 
We made a 
success of 
it. I per- 
ceived, 
then, 
that it 



t o show 
where a 
deep pool 
water, 
bad leak, 
self. I 
the men 




SPRUNG A LEAK. 

was not a leak at all. This boulder had descended from a 
precipice and stopped on the ice in the middle of the glacier, 
and the sun ));*d warmed it up, every day, and consequently 



456 BADLY MANAGED GLACIER TRAIN. 

it had melted its way deeper and deeper into the ice, until 
at last it reposed, as we had found it, in a deep pool of the 
clearest and coldest water. 

Presently Baedeker was found again, and I hunted eager- 
ly for the time-table. There was none. The book sin)ply 
said the glacier was moving all the time. This was satisfac- 
tory, so I shut up the book and chose a good position to view 
the scenery as we passed along. I stood there some time 
enjoying the trip, but at last it occurred to me that we did not 
seem to be gaining any on the scenery. 1 said to myself, 
" This confounded old thing's aground again, sure," — and 
opened Baedeker to see if I could run across any remedy for 
these annoying interruptions. I soon found a sentence which 
threw a dazzling light upon the matter. It said, " The Gorner 
Glacier travels at an average rate of a little less than an inch a 
day." I have seldom felt so outraged. 1 have seldom had 
my confidence so wantonly betrayed. I made a small calcula- 
tion : 1 inch a da}^, say 30 feet a year ; estimated distance 
to Zermatt, 3 1-18 miles. Time required to go by glacier, a 
little over five hundred years ! I said to myself, " I can walk. 
it quicker — and before I will patronize such a fraud as this, 
I will do it." 

When I revealed to Harris the fact that the passenger-part 
of this glacier, — the central part, — the lightning-express part, 
80 to speak, — was not due in Zermatt till the summer of 
2378, and that the baggage, coming along the slow edge, would 
not arrive until some generations later, he burst out with, — 

" That is European management, all over ! An inch a day 
— think of that ! Five hundred years to go a trifle over three 
miles ! But I am not a bit surprised. It's a Catholic glacier. 
You can tell by the look of it. And the management." 

I said, no, 1 believed nothing but the extreme end of it 
was in a Catholic canton. 

" Well, then, it's a government glacier," said Harris. " It's 
all the same. Over here the government runs everything, — 
so everything's slow; slow, and ill managed. But with ns, 
everything's done by private enterprise — and then there ain't 



AN EXCELLENT SLOW FREIGHT LINE. 457 

inucli lolling around, you can depend on it. I wish Tom 
Scott could get his hands on this torpid old slab once, — jou'd 
see it take a different gait from this." 

I said I was sure he would increase the speed, if there was 
trade enough to justify it. 

" He'd make trade," said Harris. " That's the difference 
between governments and individuals. Governments don't 
care, individuals do. Tom Scott would take all the trade; 
in two years Gorner stock would go to 200, and inside of 
two more you would see all the other glaciers under the ham- 
mer for taxes." After a reflective pause, Harris added, '• h. 
little less than an inch a day ; a little less than an inch^ mind 
you. Well, I'm losing my reverence for glaciers." 

I was feeling much the same way myself. I have travel- 
ed by canal boat, ox-wagon, raft, and by the Epliesus and 
Smyrna railway ; but when it comes down to good solid hon- 
est slow motion, I bet my money on the glacier. As a means 
of passenger transportation, 1 consider the glacier a failure;, 
but as a vehicle for slow freight, I think she fills the bilk 
In the matter of putting the fine shades on that line of busit- 
ness, I judge she could teach the Germans something. 

I ordered the men to break camp and prepare for the land 
journey to Zermatt. At this moment a most interesting find 
was made ; a dark object, bedded in the glacial ice, was cut 
out with the ice-axes, and it proved to be a piece of the 
undressed skin of some animal, — a hair trunk, perhaps ; but a 
close inspection disabled the hair trunk theory, and further 
discussion and examination exploded it entirely,: — that is. in 
the opinion of all the scientists except the one who had ad- 
vanced it. This one clung to his theory with the affection- 
ate fidelity characteristic of originators of scientific theories, 
and afterwards won many of the first scientists of the age to 
his view, by a very able pamphlet which he wrote, entitled, 
" Evidences going to show that the hair trunk, in a wild state, 
belonged to the early glacial period, and roamed the wastes 
of chaos in company with the cave bear, primeval man, and 
the other Oolitics of the Old Silurian familv." 
27 



458 



OUR SCIENTISTS DISAGREE. 



Each of our scientists bad a theory of his own, and put 
forward an animal of his own as a candidate for the slvin. i 
sided with the geologist of the Expedition in the belief that 

tbis patch of skin had once 
helped to cover a Siberian 
elephant, in some old for- 
gotten age — but we divid- 
ed there, tbe geologist be- 
lieving that this discov- 
ery proved that Siberia 
had formerly been located 
where Switzerland is now, 
whereas I held tbe opinion 
that it merely ])roved that 
the primeval Swiss was 
not the dull savage he is 
represented to have been, 
but was a being of high 
intellectual development, 
who liked to go to the 
menagerie. 

We arrived that even- 
ing, after many hardships 
and adventures, in some 

A SCIENTIFIC QUESTION. ^^^^g ^^^g^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^g. 

arch where the mad Visp boils and surges out from under 
the foot of the great Gorner Glacier, and here we camped, 
our perils over and our magnificent undertaking successfully 
completed. We marched into Zermatt the next day. and 
were received with the most lavish honors and applause. 
A document, signed and sealed by all the authorities, was 
given to me which established and endorsed the fact that I 
had made the ascent of the Eiffelberg. This I wear around 
my neck, and it will be buried with me when I am no more. 




CHAPTER XL. 

JAM not so ignorant about glacial movement, now, as I 
was when I took passage on the Gorner Glacier. I have 
" read up," since. I am aware that these vast bodies of ice 
do not travel at the same rate of speed : whilst the Gorner 
Glacier makes less than an inch a day, the UnterAar Glacier 
makes as much as eight ; and still other glaciers are said to 
go twelve, sixteen, and even twentj inches a day. One writ- 
er says that the slowest glacier travels 25 feet a year, and the 
fastest 400. 

What is a glacier? It is easy to say it looks like a frozen 
river which occupies the bed of a winding gorge or gully be- 
tween mountains. But that gives no notion of its vastness. 
For it is sometimes 600 feet thick, and we are not accustomed 
to rivers 600 feet deep ; no, our rivers are 6 feet, 20 feet, and 
sometimes 50 feet deep ; we are not quite able to grasp so 
large a fact as an ice-river 600 feet deep. 

The glacier's surface is not smooth and level, but has deep 
swales and swelling elevations, and sometimes has the look 
of a tossing sea whose turbulent billows were frozen hard in 
the instant of their most violent motion ; the glacier's surface 
is not a flawless mass, but is a river with cracks or crevasses, 
some narrow, some gaping wide. Many a man, the victim 
of a slip or a misstep, has plunged down one of these and 
met his death. Men have been fished out of them alive, but 

459 



460 GLACIAL PERILS. 

it was when they did not go to a great depth ; the cold of 
the great depths would quickly stupefy a man, whether he 
was hurt or unhurt. These cracks do not go straight down ; 
one can seldom see more than twenty to forty feet down them ; 
consequently men who have disappeared in them have been 
sought for, in the hope that they had stopped within helping 
distance, whereas their case, in most instances, had really 
been hopeless from tlie beginning. 

In 1864 a party of tourists was descending Mont Blanc, and 
while picking their way over one of the mighty glaciers of 
that lofty region, roped together, as was proper, a young 
porter disengaged himself from the line and started across 
an ice-bridge which spanned a crevasse. It broke under him 
with a crash, and lie disappeared. The others could not see 
how deep he hid gone, so it. might be worth while to try and 
rescue him. A brave young guide named Michel Payot vol- 
unteered. 

Two ropes were made fast to his leather belt and he bore 
the end of a third one in his hand to tie to the victim in case 
he found him. He was lowered into the crevasse, he descend- 
ed deeper and deeper between the clear blue walls of solid 
ice, he approached a bend in the crack and disappeared un- 
der it. Down, and still down, he went, into this profound 
grave ; when he had reached a depth of 80 feet he passed 
under another bend in the crack, and thence descended 80 
feet lower, as between perpendicular precipices. Arrived at 
this stage of 160 feet below the surface of the glacier, he 
peered through the twilight dimness and perceived that the 
chasm took another turn and stretched away at a steep slant 
to unknown deeps, for its course was lost in darkness. "What 
a place that was to be in — especially if that leather belt 
should break ! The compression of the belt threatened to 
suffocate the intrepid fellow ; he called to his friends to draw 
him up, but could not make them hear. Tiiey still lowered 
him, deeper and deeper. Then he jerked his third cord as 
vigorously as he could ; his friends understood, and dragged 
him out of those icy jaws of death. 



MORAINES. 



461 



Then they attached a bottle to a cord and sent it down 200 
feet, but it found no bottom. It came up covered with con- 
gelations — evidence enough that even if the poor porter 
reached the bottom with unbroken bones, a swift death fi-om 
cold was sure, anyway. 

A glacier is a stupendous, ever progressing, resistless plow. 
It pushes ahead of it masses of boulders which are packed 
together, and they stretch across the gorge, right in front of 



sy/ ^ 




A TEKMINAL MORAINE. 



it, like a long grave or a long, sharp roof. This is called a 
moraine. It also shoves out a moraine along each side of its 
course. 

Imposing as the modern glaciers are, they are not so huge 
as were some that once existed. For instance, Mr. Whym- 
per says : 

" At some very remote period the Yalley of Aosta was 
occupied by a vast glacier, which flowed down its entire lengtli 
from Mont Blanc to. the plain of Peidmont, remained station- 
ary, or nearly so, at its mouth for many centuries, and deposi- 
ted there enormous masses of debris. The length of this gla- 
cier exceeded eighty miles, and it drained a basin 25 to 35 
miles across, bounded by the highest mountains in the Alps. 
The great peaks rose several thousand feet above the glaciers, 
and then, as now, shattered by sun and frost, poured down 



462 



IMMENSE SIZE OF GLA.CIERS. 



their showers of rocks and stones, in witness of which there 
are the immense piles of angular fragments that constitute 
the moraines of Ivria. 

" The moraines around Ivria are of extraordinary dimen- 
sions. That which 
was on the left 
bank of the gla- 
cier is about thir- 
teen miles long, 
and in some 
places rises to a 
height of two 
thousand one 
hundred and 
thirty feet above 
the floor of the 
valley! The 
terminal mor- 
aines (those 
which are pushed 
in front of the 
glaciers), cover 
something like 
twenty s q u a r e 
miles of country. 
At the mouth of 
the Yalley of the 
Aosta, the thick- 
ness of the glacier 
must have been at 
FRONT OP GLAciEE. - least two thou- 

sand feet, and its width, at that part, jive miles and a 
quarterP 

It is not easy to get at a comprehension of a mass of ice 
like that. If one could cleave off the butt end of such a gla- 
cier — an oblong block two or three miles wide by five and a 




A TRAVELING GLACIER. 



465 



quarter long and 2,000 feet thick he could completely hide 
the city of JSlew York under it, and Trinity steeple would 
only stick up into it relatively as far as a shingle nail would 
stuck np into the bottom of a Saratoga trunk. 

" The boulders from Mont Blanc, upon the plain below 
Ivria, assure us that the glacier which transported them ex- 
isted for a prodigious length of time. Their present distance 




GLACIEK OF ZAMATT WITH LATERAL MOEAINE. 

from the cliffs from which they were derived is about 420,000 
feet, and if we assume that they traveled at the rate of 400 
feet per annum, their journey must have occupied them no 
less than 1055 years ! In all probability they did not travel 
so fast." 

Glaciers are sometimes hurried out of their characteristic 
snail-pace. A marvelous spectacle is presented then. Mr. 
Whymper refers to a case which occurred in Iceland in 1721 : 

" It seems that in the neighborhood of the mountain Kot- 
lugja, large bodies of water formed underneath, or within 
the glaciers (either on account of the interior heat of the 



4.QQ MOVEMENTS OF GLACIERS. 

earth, or from other causes,) and at length acquired irresisti- 
ble power, tore the glaciers from their mooring on the land, 
and swept them over every obstacle into the sea. Prodig- 
ious masses of ice were thus borne for a distance of about 
ten miles over land in the space of a few honrs; and their 
bulk was so enormous that they covered the sea for seven 
miles from the shore, and remained aground in 600 feet of 
water ! The denudation of the land was npon a grand scale. 
All superficial accumulations were swept away, and the bed- 
rock was exposed. It was described, in graphic language, 
how all irregularities and depressions were obliterated, and a 
smooth surface of several miles area laid bare, and that this 
area had the appearance of having heen planed ly a plane."" 

The account translated from the Icelandic says that the 
mountain-like ruins of this majestic glacier so covered the sea 
that as far as the eye could reach no open water was discov- 
erable, even from the highest peaks. A monster wall or 
barrier of ice was built across a considerable stretch of land, 
too, by this strange irruption : 

" One can form some idea of the altitude of this barrier of 
ice when it is mentioned that from Hofdabrekka farm, which 
lies high up on a f jeld, one could not see Hjorleift^hofdi op- 
posite, which is a fell 610 feet in height ; but in oi'der to do 
so had to clamber up a mountain slope east of Hofdabrekka 
1,200 feet high." 

These things will help the reader to understand why it is 
that a man who keeps company with glaciers comes to feel 
tolerably insignificant by and by. The Alps and the glaciers 
together are able to take every bit of conceit out of a man 
and reduce his self-importance to zero if he will only remain 
within the influeiice of their sublime presence long enough 
to give it a fair and reasonable chance to do its work. 

The Alpine glaciers move — that is granted, now, by every- 
body. But there was a time when people scoffed at the idea ; 
they said you might as well expect leagues of solid rock to 
crawl along the ground as expect solid leagues of ice to do it. 



LOSS OF GUIDES. 467 

But proof after proof was furnished, and finally the world 
had to believe. 

The wise men not only said the glacier moved, but they 
timed its movement. They ciphered out a glacier's gait, and 
then said confidently that it would travel just so far iu so 
many years. There is record of a striking and curious exam- 
ple of the accuracy which may be attained in these reckon- 
ings. 

In 1820 the ascent of Mont Blanc was attempted by a Rus- 
sian and two Englishinen, with seven guides. They had 
reached a prodigious altitude, and were approaching the sum- 
mit, when an avalanche swept several of the party down a 
sharp slope of two hundred feet and hui'led five of them (all 
guides,) into one of the crevasses of a glacier. The life of 
one of the five was saved by a long barometer which w^as 
strapped to his back — it bridged the crevasse and suspended 
him until help came. The alpenstock or baton of another 
saved its owner in a similar way. Three men were \oz\ — 
Pierre Balmat, Pierre Carrier, and Auguste Tairraz. They 
had been hurled down into the fathomless great deeps of the 
crevasse. 

Dr. Forbes, the English geologist, had made frequent vis- 
its to the Mont Blanc region, and had given mncli attention 
to the disputed question of the movement of glaciers. Dur- 
ing one of these visits he completed his estimates of the rate 
of movement of the glacier which had swallowed up the 
three guides, and uttered the prediction that the glacier would 
deliver up its dead at the foot of the mountain thirty-five 
years from the time of the accident, or possibly forty. 

A dull, slow journey — a movement imperceptible to any 
eye — but it was proceeding, nevertheless, and without cessa- 
tion. It was a journey which a rolling stone would make in 
a few seconds — the lofty point of departure was visible from 
the village below in the valley. 

The prediction cut curiously close to the truth ; forty-one 
years after tlie catastrophe, the remains were cast forth at 
the foot of the glacier. 



468 FINDING OF REMAINS. 

1 find an interesting account of the matter in the "His- 
toire du Mont Blanc, by Stephen d'Arve." I will condense 
this account, as follows: 

Ou the 12th of August, 1861, at the hour of the close of 
mass, a guide arrived out of breath at the mairie of Chamon- 
ix, and bearing on his shoulders a very lugubrious burden. 
It was a sack Ulled with human remains which he had gath- 
ered from the orifice of a crevasse in the Glacier des Bossons, 
He conjectured that these were remains of the victims of 
the catastrophe of 1820, and a minute inquest, immediately 
instituted by the local authorities, soon demonstrated the cor- 
rectness of his supposition. The contents of the sack were 
spread upon a long table, and officially inventoried, as follows: 

Portions of three human skulls. Several tufts of black 
and blonde hair. A human jaw, furnished with fine white 
teeth. A fore-arm and hand, all the fingers of the latter in- 
tact. The flesh was white and fresh, and both the aim and 
hand preserved a degree of flexibility in the articulations. 

The ring-finger had suffered a slight abrasion, and the stain 
of the blood was still visible and unchanged after forty-one 
years. A left foot, the flesh white and fresh. 

Along with these fragments were portions of waistcoats, 
hat?, hob-nailed shoes and other clothing ; a wing of a pigeon, 
•with black feathers; a fragment of an alpenstock ; a tin lan- 
tern ; and lastly, a boiled leg of mutton, the only flesh among 
all the remains that exhaled an unpleasant odor. The guide 
said that the mutton had no odor when he took it from the 
glacier ; an hour's exposure to the sun had already begun the 
work of decomposition upon it. 

Persons were called for, to identify these poor pathetic 
relics, and a touching scene ensued. Two men were still 
living who had witnessed the grim catastrophe of nearly half 
a century before, — Marie Couttet, (saved by his baton,) and 
Julien Davouassoux, (saved by the barometer). These aged 
men entered and approached the table. Davouassoux, more 
than eighty years old, contemplated the mournful remains 



THE LIVING AND THE DEAD. 



469 



mutely and with a vacant eye, for his intelligence and his 
memory were torpid with age ; but Couttet's faculties were 
still perfect at 72, and he exhibited ,strong emotion. He 
said, — 

" Pierre Balmat was fair ; he wore a straw hat. This bit 
of skull, with the tuft of blond hair, was his; this is his hat. 
Pierre Carrier was very dark ; this skull was his, and this felt 
hat. This is Balmat's hand, I remember it so well!" and 
the old man bent down and kissed it reverently, then closed 
his fingers upon it in an affectionate grasp, crying out, "1 
could never have dared to believe that before quitting this 




UNEXPECTED MEETING OF FRIENDS. 



world it would be granted me to press once more the hand 
of one of those brave comrades, the hand of my good friend 
Balmat." 

There is something wierdly pathetic about the picture of 
that white-haired veteran greeting with his loving hand-shake 
this friend who had been dead forty years. When these 
hands had met last, they were alike in the softness and fresh- 
ness of youth ; now, one was brown and wrinkled and horny 



470 MORE RELICS DISCOVERED. 

with age, while the other was still as young and fair and 
blemishless as if those forty years had come and gone in a 
sino-le moment, leaving no mark of their passage. Time had 
gone on, in the one case; it had stood still in the other. A 
man who has not seen a friend for a generation, keeps him 
in mind always as he saw him last, and is somehow surprised, 
and is also shocked, to see the aging change the years have 
wrought when he sees him again. Marie Couttet's experi- 
ence, in finding his friend's hand unaltered from the image of 
it which he had carried in his memory for forty years, is an 
experience which stands alone in the history of man, perhaps. 

Couttet identified other relics: 

" This hat belonged to Auguste Tairraz. He carried the 
cage of pigeons which we proposed to set free upon the sum- 
mit. Here is the wing of one of those pigeons. And here 
is the fragment of my broken baton : it was by grace of that 
baton that my life was saved. Who could have told me that 
I should one day have the satisfaction to look again upon this 
bit of wood that supported me above the grave that swallow- 
ed up my unfortunate comp mions ! " 

No portions of the body of Tairraz had been found. A dili- 
gent search was made, but without result. However, anoth- 
er search was instituted a year later, and this had better suc- 
cess. Many fragments of clothing which had belonged to 
the lost guides were discovered ; also, part of a lantern, and a 
green veil, with blood stains on it. But the interesting fea- 
ture was this : 

One of tlie searchers came suddenly upon a sleeved arm 
projecting from a crevice in the ice-wall, with the hand out- 
stretched as if offering greeting ! " The nails of this white 
hand were still rosy, and the pose of the extended fingers 
seemed to express an eloquent welcome to the long lost light 
of day." 

The hand and arm were alone ; there was no trunk. Af- 
ter being removed from the ice the flesh tints quickly faded 
out and the rosy nails took on the alabaster hue of death. 



A PROPOSED MUSEUM. 471 

This was the third right hand found : therefore, all three of 
the lost men were accounted for, beyond cavil or question. 

Dr. Hamel was the Rusbian gentleman of the party which 
made the ascent at the time of the famous disaster. He left 
Chamonix as soon as he conveniently could after the descent ; 
and as he had shown a chilly indifference about the calamity, 
and offered neither sympathy nor assistance to the widows 
and orphans, he cai-ried with him the cordial execrations of 
the whole communit3^ Four months before the first remains 
were found, a Chamonix guide named Balmat, — a relative 
of one of the lost men, — was in London, and one day en- 
countered a hale old gentleman in the British museum, who 
said, — 

"I overheard your name. Are you from Chamonix, 
Monsieur Balmat ? " 

" Yes, sir." 

"Haven't they found the bodies of my three guides, yet? 
I am Dr. Hamel." 

" Alas, no, monsieur." 

"Well, you'll find them, sooner or later." 

" Yes, it is the opinion of Dr. Forbes and Mr. Tyndal, that 
the glacier will sooner or later restore to us the remains of 
the unfortunate victims." 

" Without a doubt, without a doubt. And it will be a 
great thing for Chamonix, in the matter of attracting tourists. 
You can get up a museum with those remains that will 
draw^ ! " 

Tiiis savage idea has not improved the odor of Dr. Harael's 
name in Chamonix by any means. But after all, the man 
was sound on human nature. His idea was conveyed to the 
public officials of Chamonix, and they gravely discussed it 
around the official council table. They were only prevented 
from carryinor it into execution by the determined opposition 
of the friends and descendants of the lost guides, who insist- 
ed on giving the remains Christian burial, and succeeded in 
their purpose. 



472 



THE KELICS AT CHAMONIX. 



A close watch had to be kept upon all the poor remnants 
and fragments, to prevent embezzlement, A few accessor3' 
odds and ends were sold. Rags and scraps of the coarse cloth- 
ing were parted with at a rate equal to about twenty dollars 
a yard ; a piece of a lantern and one or two other trifles 
brought nearly their weight in gold ; and an Englishman of- 
fered a pound sterling for a single breeches-button. 










•^•,; 





VILLAGE OF CHAMONIX. 



CHAPTER XLL 

ONE of the most memorable of all the Alpine catastrophes 
was that of July 1865, on the Matterhorn, — already slight- 
ly referred to, a few pages back. The details of it are scarcely 
known in America. To the vast majority of readers they are 
not known at all, Mr. Whymper's account is the only au- 
thentic one. I will import the chief portion of it into this 
book, partly because of its intrinsic interest, and partly be- 
cause it gives such a vivid idea of what the perilous pastime 
of Alp-climbing is. This was Mr. "Whymper's ninth attempt 
during a series of years, to vanquish that steep and stubborn 
pillar of rock ; it succeeded, the other eight were failures. 
]So man had ever accomplished the ascent before, though 
the attempts had been numerous. 

ME. whymper's narrative. 

We started from Zermatt on the 13th of Jnly, at half past 
5, on a brilliant and perfectly cloudless morning. We were 
eight in number — Croz, (guide,) old Peter Taugwalder, 
(guide,) and his two sons ; Lord F. Douglas, Mr, Hadow, Rev. 
Mr. Hudson, and I. To ensure steady motion, one tourist 
and one native walked together. The youngest Taugwalder 
fell to my share. The wine-bags also fell to my lot to carry, 
and throughout the day, after each drink, I replenished 
them secretly with water, so that at the next halt they were 
found fuller than before ! This was considered a good omen, 
and little short of miractilous. 

473 



474 ASCENDING THE MATTERHORN. 

On the first day we did not intend to ascend to any great 
height, and we mounted, accordingly, very leisurely. Before 
12 o'clock we had found a good position for the tent, at a 
height of 11,000 feet. We passed the remaining hours of 
daylight — some basking in the sunshine, some sketching, 
some collecting; Hudson made tea, I coffee, and at length 
we retired, each one to his blanket-bag. 

We assembled together before dawn on the Idth and start- 
ed directly it was light enough to move. One of the young 
Taugwalders returned to Zermatt. In a few minutes we 
turned the rib wdiich had intercepted the view of the eastern 
face from our tent platform. The whole of this great slope 
was now revealed, rising for 3,000 feet like a huge natural 
staircase. Some parts were more, and others were less easy, 
but we were not once brought to a halt by any serious im- 
pediment, for when an obstruction was met in front it could 
always be turned to the right or to the left. For the greater 
part of the way there was no occasion, indeed, for the rope, 
and sometimes Hudson led, sometimes myself. At 6:20 we 
had attained a height of 12,800 feet, and halted for half an 
hour; we then continued the ascent without a break until 
9:55, when we stopped for 50 minutes, at a height of 14,000 
feet. 

We had now arrived at the foot of that part which, seen 
from the Riifelberg, seems perpendicnlar or overhanging. 
We could no longer continue on the eastern side. For a lit- 
tle distance we ascended by snow upon the arete — that is, 
the ridge — then turned over to the right, or northern side. 
The work became difficult, and required caution. In some 
places there was little to hold ; the general slope of the mount- 
ain was less than 40°, and snow had accumulated in, and had 
filled up, the interstices of the rock-face, leaving only occa- 
sional fragments projecting here and there. These were at 
times covered with a thin film of ice. It was a place which 
any fair mountaineer might pass in safety. We bore away 
nearly horizontally for about 400 feet, then ascended directly 




ONE XlEVl OP THE MATTEHOEN. 



THE MATTERHORN CONQUERED. 



477 



toward the summit for about 60 feet, then doubled back 
to the ridge which descends toward Zermatt. A long stride 
round a rather awkward corner brought us to snow once more. 
The last doubt vanished ! The Matterhorn was ours ! Noth- 
ing but 200 feet of easy snow remained to be surmounted. 

The liigher we rose, the more intense became the excite- 
ment. The slope eased off, at length we could be detached, 
and Croz and 
I, d a s h i n g 

away, ran a ^ 

nee k-a n d- ^ 'z^ 

neck race, 
which ended 
in a dead 
heat. At 1: 
40 p. m., the 
world was at 
our feet, and 
the Matter- 
horn was con- 
quered ! 

The others 
arrived. Croz 
now took the 
tent-pole, and 

planted it in the highest snow 
"Yes" we said, " there is tlie 
flag-staff, but wliere is the f'^'^- 
flag?" "Here it is," he an- 
swered, pulling off his blouse and fixing it to the stick. It 
made a poor flag, and there was no wind to float it out, vet 
it was seen all around. They sa^w it at Zermatt — at the E.iffel 
— in the Yal Tournanche. * * * 

We remained on the summit for one liour — 
" One crowded hour of glorious life." 

It passed away too quickly, and we began to prepare for the 

sscent. 




|t'|/6l'i*lJ'' 



ON THE SUMMIT. 



descent 



28 



478 THE DESCENT BEGUN. 

Hudson and I consulted as to the best and safest arrange- 
ment of the party. We agreed that it was best for Croz to 
go lirst, and Hadow second ; Hudson, who was almost equal 
to a guide in sureness of foot, wished to be third ; Lord Doug- 
las was placed next, and old Peter, the strongest of the re- 
mainder, after him. I suggested to Hudson that we should 
attach a rope to the rocks on our arrival at the difficult bit, 
and hold it as we descended, as an additional protection. He 
approved the idea, but it was not definitely decided that it 
should be done. The party was being arranged in the above 
order whilst I was sketching the summit, and they had finish- 
ed, and were waiting for me to be tied in line, when some 
one remembered that our names had not been left in a bottle. 
They i-equested me to write them down, and moved off while 
it was being done. 

A few minutes afterwards I tied myself to young Peter, 
ran down after the others, and caught them just as they were 
commencing the descent of the difficult part. Great care 
was being taken. Only one man was moving at a time; when 
lie was firmly planted the next advanced, and so on. They 
had not, however, attached the additional rope to rocks, and 
nothing was said about it. The suggestion was not made for 
my own sake, and I am not sure that it even occurred to me 
again. For some little distance we two followed the others, 
detaclied from them, and should have continued so had not 
Lord Douglas asked me, about 3 p. m., to tie on to old Peter, 
as he feared, he said, that Tangwalder would not be able to 
liold his ground if a slip occurred. 

A few minutes later, a sharp-eyed lad ran into the Monte 
Rosa hotel, at Zerraatt, saying that he had seen an avalanche 
fall from the summit of the Matterhorn on to the Matterhorn 
glacier. The boy was reproved for telling idle stories ; he 
was right, nevertheless, and this was what he saw. 

Michel Croz had laid aside his axe, and in order to give 
Mr. Hadow greater security, was absolutely taking hold of 
his legs, and putting his feet, one by one, into their proper 




THE GATASTROPHE ON THE MATTERHORN, ISra. 



A FEARFUL DISASTER. 481 

positions. As far as I know, no one was actually dtscend- 
iiio-. I cannot speak with certainty, because the two leading 
men were partially hidden from my sight by an intervening 
mass of rock, but it is my belief, from the movements of their 
shoulders, that Croz, having dune as 1 have said, was in the 
act of turning round to go down a step or two himself ; at 
this moment Mr. Hadow slipped, fell against him, and knock- 
ed him over. 1 heard one startled exclamation from Croz, 
then saw him and Mr. Hadow flying downwards ; in another 
moment Hudson was dragged from his steps, and Lord Doug- 
las immediately after him. All this was the work of a mo- 
ment. Immediately we heard Croz's exclamation, old Peter 
and I planted ourselves as firmly as the rocks would permit : 
the rope was taut between us, and the jerk came on us both 
as on one man. We held ; but the rope broke midway be- 
tween Taugwrtlder and Lord Francis Douglas. For a few 
seconds we saw our unfortunate companions sliding down- 
wards on their backs, and spreading out tlieir hands, endeav- 
oring to save themselves. They passed from our sight un- 
injured, disappeared one by one, and fell from precipice to 
precipice on to the Mattorhorn glacier below, a distance of 
nearly 4,000 feet in height. From the moment the rope broke 

it was impossible to help them. So perished our comrades ! 
***** 

Fur more than two hours afterwards I thought almost 
every moment that the next would be my last ; for the Taug- 
walders, utterly unnerved, were not only incapable of giving 
assistance, but were in such a state that a slip might have 
been expected from them at any moment. After a time we 
were able to do that which should have been done at first, and 
fixed rope to tirm rocks, in addition to being tied together. 
These ropes were cut from time to time, and were left be- 
hind. Even with their assurance the men were afraid to pro- 
ceed, and several times old Peter turned, with ashy face and 
faltering limbs, and said, witli terrible emphasis, " I cannot! " 

About 6 p. m., we arrived at the snow upon the ridge de- 



482 



THE MOCR^'FUL RETURN. 



descendino- towards Zennatt, and all peril was over. "We fre- 
qiicutly iouked, but iii vain, for traces of our unfortunate 
companions; we bent over the ridge and cried to theuj, but 
no sound returned. Convinced at last that thej were neither 
within sio-lit nor hearing, we ceased fioni our useless efforts; 
and, too cast down for speech, silently gathered up our things, 
and the little effects of those who were lost, and then com- 
pleted the descent. 



Such is Mr. Whyniper's graphic and thrilling nairative. 
Zerniatt gossip darkly hints that the elder TaugMalder cut 
the rope, when the accident occurred, in order to preserve him- 
self from being dragged into the abyss; but Mr. Whymper 
says that the ends of the rope showed no evidence of cutting, 
but only of breaking. He adds that if Taugwalder had had 
tlie disposition to cut the rope, he would not have had time 
to do it, the accident M'as so sudden and unexpected. 

Lord Douglas's body has never been found. It probably 
lodged upon some inaccessible shelf in the face of the mighty 
precipice. Lord Douglas was a youth of 19. The three 
other victims fell nearly 4,OuO feet, and their bodies lay to- 
gether upon the glacier when found by Mr. Whymper and 
the other searchers the next morning. Their graves are be- 
side the little church in Zermatt. 




CHAPTER XLIT. 

SWITZERLAND is simply a large, humpy, solid rock, 
with a thin skin of grass stretched over it. Consequent- 
ly, they do not dig graves, they blast them out with powder 
and fuse. They cannot afford to have large graveyards, 
the grass skin is too circumscribed and too valuable. It ia 
all required for the support of the living. 

The graveyard in Zermatt occupies only about one-eighth 
of an acre. The graves are sunk in the living rock, and are 
very permanent; but occupation of them is only temporary; 
the occupant can only stay till his grave is needed by a later 
subject, he is removed, then, for they do not bury one body 
on top of another. As I understand it, a family owns a 
grave, just as it owns a house. A man dies, and leaves his 
house to his son, — and at the same time, this dead father 
succeeds to his own father's grave. He moves out of the 
house and into the grave, and his predecessor moves out of 
the grave and into the cellar of the chapel. I saw a black 
box lying in the churchyard, with skull and cross-bones paint- 
ed on it, and was told that this was used in transferring re- 
mains to the cellar. 

In that cellar the bones and skulls of several hundreds of 
former citizens were enmpaetly corded up. They made a 
pile 18 feet long, 7 feet hiirh, and 8 feet wide. I was told; 
that in some of the receptacles of this kind in the Swisa 

483 



481 



BALLOTING FOR MARRIAGE. 



villages, the skulls were all marked, and if a man wished to 
liud the skulls of his ancestors for several generations back 

he could do it by 
these marks, pre- 
served in the 
familj' records. 

An English 
gentleman who 
had lived some 
years in this re- 
gion, said it was 
the cradle of 
compulgory edu» 
cation. But he 
said that the Eng- 
lish idea that 
compulsory edu- 
cation would re- 
d u c e bastardy 
and intemperance 
was an error — 
it has not that 
STOEAGE OF ANCESTORS. offect. Hc said 

there was more pednction in the Protestant than in the Cath- 
olic cantons, because the confessional protected the girls. I 
wonder why it doesn't protect married women in France and 
Spain ? 

This gentleman said that among the poorer peasants in 
the Yalais, it was common for the brothers in a family to 
cast lots to determine which of them should have the coveted 
privilege of marrying. Tlien the lucky one got married, 
and his brethren — doomed bachelors, — heroically banded 
themselves together to help support the new family. 

"We left Zermatt in a wagon — and in a rain storm, too,— 
for St. Nicholas about ten o'clock one morning. Again we 
passed between those grass-clad prodigious cliffs, specked 




FARMERS AS HEROES. 



485 



with wee dwellings peeping over at ns from velvety, green 
walls ten and twelve hun- 
dred feet high. It did not 
seem possible that the im- 
aginary chamois even, could ^^^^ 
climb those precipices. Lov- 
ers on opposite cliffs pro- 
bably kiss through a spy- 
glass, and correspond with a 
rifle. 

In Switzerland the farm- 
er's plow is a wide shovel, 
which scrapes up and turns 
over the thin earthy skin of 
his native rock — and there 
the man of the plow is a 
hero. Now here, by our St. 
Nicholas road, was a grave, 
and it had a tragic story. 
A plowman was skinning 
his farm one morning, — not 
the steepest part of it, bat 
still a steep part — that is, 
he was not skinning the 
front of his farm, but the 
roof of it, near the eaves, — 
when he absent-mindedly 
let go of the plow-handles to 
moisten his hands, in the 
usual way : he lost his bal- 
ance and fell out of his farm 
backwards; poor fellow, he never touched anything till lie 
etruek bottom, 1500 feet below.* We throw a halo of hero- 
ism around the life of the soldier and the sailor, because of 
the deadly dangers they are facing all the time. But we are 




FALLING OUT OF HIS FARM. 



* This was on a Sunday. M. T. 



486 ' FROM ST. NICHOLAS TO VISP. 

not used to looking upon farming as a heroic occupation. 
Tiiis is because we have not lived in Switzerland. 

From St. Nicholas we struck out for Visp, — or Yispach 
— on foot. The rain storms had been at work during several 
days, and had done a deal of damage in Switzerland and 
Savoy, We came to one place where a stream had changed 
its course and plunged down the mountain in a new place, 
sweeping everything before it. Two poor but precious 
farms by the roadside were ruined. One was washed clear 
away, and the bed-rock exposed; the other was buried out 
of sight under a tunibled chaos of rocks, gravel, mud, and 
rubbish. The resistless might of water was well exemplified. 
Some saplings which had stood in the way were bent to the 
ground, stripped clean of their bark, and buried under rocky 
debris. The road had been sM^ept away, too. 

In another place, where the road was high up on the 
mountain's face, and its outside edge protected by flimsy 
masonry, we frequently came across spots where this mason- 
ry had caved oft' and left dangerous gaps for mules to get 
over; and with still more frequency w-e fonnd the masonry 
slightly crumbled, and marked by mule-hoofs, thus showing 
that there had been danger of an accident to somebody. 
When at last we came to a badly ruptured bit of masonry^ 
with hoof-prints evidencing a desperate struggle to regain 
the lost foot-liold, I looked quite hopefully over the dizzy 
precipice. But there was nobody down there. 

They take exceedingly good care of their rivers in Switz- 
erland and other portions of Europe. They w^all up both 
banks with slanting solid stone masonry — so that from end 
to end of these rivers the banks look like the wharves at St. 
Louis and other towns on the Mississippi river. 

It was during this walk from St. Nicholas, in the shadow 
of the majestic Alps, that we came across some little chiloren 
amusing themselves in what seemed, at first, a most odd and 
original way — but it wasn't : it was in simply a natural and 
characteristic way. They were roped together with a string, 
they had mimic alpenstocks and ice-axes, and were climbing 



MIMIC LIFE. 



487 



a meek and lowlj manure pile with a most blood-curdling' 

amount of care and caution. The "guide" at the head ot 

the line cut imaginary steps, in a laborious and painstaking 

way, and not a monkey budged 

till the step above 

vacated. If we had 

should have witnessed 

nary accident, no do 

should have heard 

band hurrah when tl 

sununit and looked ar 

the " magnificent 

view," and seen 
them throw them- 
selves down in ex- 
haiisted\ attitudes 
for a rest in that 
commanding situa- 
tion. 

In Kevada I 
used to see the 
children play at 
silver mining. Of 
course the great 
thing was an acci- 
dent in a mine, and 
there were two 
" star " parts : that 
of the man who 
fell down the mim- 
ic shaft, and that 
of the daring hero 

who was lowered child-t.tpe in Switzerland. 

into the deptlis to bring him up. I knew one small chap who 
always insisted on playing loth of these parts,— and he carried 
his point. He would tumble into the shaft and die, and 
then come to the surface and go back after his own remains. 




488 



THE PARSON'S CHILDREN. 



It is the smartest boy that gets the hero-part, everywhere: 
he is head guide in Switzerland, head miner in Nevada, head 
bull-ligliter in Spain, etc., but I knew a preachers son, seven 
years old, who once selected a part for himself compared to 
which tliose just mentioned are tame and unimpressive. Jim- 
my's father stopped him from driving imaginary horse-cars 
one Sunday — sto])ped him from playing captain of an imag- 
inary steamboat next Sunday — stopped him from leading an 
imaginary army to battle the following Sunday — and so on. 
Finally the little fellow said, — 

"I've tried everj^thing, and they won't any of them do. 
What can I play?" 

" I hardly know, Jimmy ; but you must play only things 
that are suitable to the Sabbath day." 

Next Sunday the preacher stepped softly to a back room 
door to see if the children were rightly employed. He peep- 
ed in. A chair occupied the middle of the room, and on the 
back of it hung Jimmy's cap ; one of the little sisters took 




A SUNDAY PLAY. 

the cap down, nibbled at it, then passed it to another small 
sister and said, " Eat of this fruit, for it is good." The Rev- 
erend took in the situation — alas, they were playing the 



A LANDLORD'S DAUGHTER. 



489 



Expulsion from Eden ! Yet he found one little crumb of 
comfort. He said to himself, "For once Jimmy has yielded 
the chief role-— I have been wronging him, I did not believe 
there was so much modesty in him : I should have expected 
him to be either Adam or Eve." This crumb of comfort last- 
ed bat a very little while; he glanced around and discovered 
Jimmy standing in an imposing attitude in a corner, with a 
dark and deadly frown on his 
face. What that meant was 
very plain — he was personating 
the Deity! Think of the guile- 
less sublimity of that idea. 

We reached Yispach at 8 p. 
m., only about seven hours out 
from St. Nicholas. So we must 
have made fully a mile and a 
half an hour, and it was all 
down hill, too, and very muddy 
at that. We staid all night at 
the Hotel du Soliel ; I remem- 
ber it because the landlady, the 
portier, the waitress, and the 
chambermaid, were not separate 
persons, but were all contain- 
ed in one neat and chipper suit 
of spotless muslin, and she was 
the prettiest young creature I 
saw in all that region. She was 
the landlord's daughter. And the combination. 

I remember that the only native match to her 1 saw in all 
Europe was the young daughter of the landlord of a village 
inn in the Black Forest. Why don't more people in Europe 
marry and keep hotel ? 

Next morning we left with a family of English friends and 
went by train to Brevet, and thence by boat across the lake 
to Ouchy (Lausanne.) 

Ouchy is memorable to me, not on account of its beautiful 




490 UNLOCKED FOR HUMOR, SHOWN. 

situation and lovely surroundings, — altliongli these would 
make it stick long in one's memory, — but as the place where 
I caught the London Times dropping into humor. It was 
not aware of it, though. It did not do it on purpose. An 
English friend called my attention to this lapse, and cut olit 
the reprehensible paragraph for me. Think of encountering 
a grin like this on the face of that grim journal : 

Erratum. — "We are requested by Reuter's Telegram Company to correct 
an erroneous announcement made in their Brisbane telegram of the £dinst., 
published in our inipression of the 6th inst., stating that "Lady Kennedy 
had given birth to twins, the eldest being a son." The Company explain 
that the message they received contained the word's " Governor of Queens- 
land, twins first son." Being, however, subsequently informed that Sir 
Arthur Kennedy was unmiirricd and that there must be some mistake, a tel- 
egraphic repetition was at once demanded. It has been received to-day 
(11th inst.) and shows that the words really telegraphed by Reuter's agent 
were " Governor Queensland turns first sod," alluding to the Mary borough- 
Gympic Railway in course of construction. The words in italics were 
mutilated by the telegraph in transmission from Australia, and reaching the 
company in the form mentioned above gave rise to the mistake. 

I had always had a deep and reverent compassion for the 
sufferings of the " prisoner of Chillon," whose story Byron 
lias told in such moving verse; so I took the steamer and 
made pilgrimage to the dungeons of the Castle of Chillon, to 
see the place where poor Bonivard endured his dreary cap- 
tivity 300 years ago. I am glad I did that, for it took away 
some of the pain I was feeling on the prisoner's account. His 
dungeon was a nice, cool, roomy place, and I cannot see why 
he should have been so dissatisfied with it. If he had been 
imprisoned in a St. Nicholas private dwelling, where the fer- 
tilizer prevails, and the goat sleeps with the guest, and the 
chickens roost on him, and the cow comes in and bothers him 
when he wants to muse, it would have been another matter 
altogether ; but he surely could not have had a very cheerless 
time of it in that pretty dungeon. It has romantic window- 
slits that let in generous bars of light, and it has tall, noble 
columns, carved apparently from the living rock ; and what 
is more, they are' written all over with thousands of names; 
some of them, — like Byron's and Victor Hugo's,— of the first 



THE "PRISONER OF CHILLON.' 



491 



celebrity. Why didn't he amuse himself reading these 
names? Then there are the couriers and tourists — swarms 
of them every day — what was to hinder him from having a 
good time with them 'i I think Bonivard's sufferings have 
been overrated. 

Next, we took the train and went to Martigny, on the way 
ti) Mont Blano. Next morning we started, about 8 o'clock, 
on foot. We had plenty of company, in the way of wagon- 




loads and mule-loads of tourists — and dust. This scattering 
procession of travelers was perhaps a mile long. The road 
was up hill — interminably up hill, — and tolerably steep. The 
weather was blistering hot, and the man or woman who had 
to sit on a creeping mule, or in a crawling wagon, and broil 



492 



A WILD PLACE. 




in the beating ^* 
sun, was an 
object to be 
pitied. We 
conld doflo'e 
a m o n g the 
bushes, and 
have the re- 
lief of shade, 
but those peo- 
ple could not. 
The}^ paid for 
a conveyance, 
and to get 
their money's 
worth t h e y 
rode. 



THE TETE NOIR. 



We went by the way of the Tete Noir, and after we reached 




AIGUILLE DU DRUAND AIGUILLE VERTE, IN THE MONT BLANC CHAIN 



MOUNT BLANC AND ITS NEIGHBORS. 495 

liigli ground there wa^ no lack of fine sceaery. In one 
place the road was tunneled through a shoulder of the mount- 
ain ; from there one looked down into a gorge with a rush- 
ing torrent in it, and on every hand was a charming view of 
rocky buttresses and wooded heights. There was a liberal 
allowance of pretty water-falls, too, on the Tete Noir route. 

About half an hour before we reached the village of Ar- 
gentiere a vast dome of snow with the sun blazing on it, 
drifted into view and framed itself in a strong Y-shaped gate- 
way of the mountains, and we recognized Mont Blanc, the 
" monarch of the Alps." With every step, after that, this 
stately dome rose higher and higher into the blue sky, and 
at last seemed to occupy the zenith. 

Some of Mont Blanc's neighbors — bare, light-brown, 
steeple-like rocks, — were very peculiarly shaped. Some were 
whittled to a sharp point, and slightly bent at the upper end, 
like a lady's finger ; one monster sugar-loaf resembled a bish- 
op's hat ; it was too steep to hold snow on its sides, but had 
some in the division. 

While we were still on ver}^ high ground, and before tlie 
descent toward Argentiere began, we looked up toward a 
neighboring mountain-top, and saw exquisite prismatic col- 
ors playing about some white clouds which were so delicate 
as to almost resemble gossamer webs. The faint pinks and 
greens were peculiarly beautiful ; none of the colors were 
deep, they were the lightest shades. They were bewitching- 
ly commingled. We sat down to study and enjoy this sin- 
gular spectacle. The tints remained during several minutes 
— flitting, changing, melting into each other; paling almost 
away, for a moment, then re-flushing, — a shifting, restless, 
unstable succession of soft opaline gleams, sliinimcring over 
that airy film of white cloud, and turning it into a fabric 
dainty enough to clothe an angel with. 

By and by we perceived what those super-delicate colors, 
and their continuous play and movement, reniinded us of: 
it is what one sees in a soap-bubble that is drifting along, 



496 



THE KING OF DRIVERS. 



cattjliing changes of tint from the objects it passes. A soap- 
bubble is the most beautiful thing, and the most exquisite, 
in nature : that lovely phantom fabric in the sky was sug- 
gestive of a soap-bubble split open, and spread out in the 
sf ■A. I wonder how much it would take to buy a soap-bubble, 








AN EXQUISITE THING. 

If there was only one in the world? One could buy a hat- 
full of Koh-i-Noors wnth the same money, no doubt. 

"We made the tramp from Martigny to Argentiei'e in eight 
hours. We beat all the mules and M^agons ; we didn't nsually 
do that. We hired a sort of open baggage-wagon for the 
trip down the valley to Chamonix, and then devoted an hour 
to dining. This gave the driver time to get drnnk. He 
had a friend with him, and this friend also had had time to 
get drnnlc. 

When we drove off, the driver said all the tonrists had 
arrived and gone by wdiile we were at dinner; "but," said 
he,impressively, "be not disturbed by that — remain tranquil 
— give yourselves no uneasiness — Their dust rises far before 
us, you shall see it fade and disappear far behind us — rest 
you tranquil, leave all to me — I am the king of drivers. 
Beliold ! " 

Down came his whip, and away we clattered. I never had 



THE CAPTAIN OF MONT BLANC. 



497 



such a shaking up in my life. The recent flooding rains had 
washed the road clear awaj in places, but we never stopped, 
w^e never slowed down, for anything. We tore right along, 
over rocks, rubbish, gullies, open lields — sometimes with one 
or two wheels on the ground, but generally with none. Every 







A WILD RIDE. 



now and then that calm, good-natured madman would bend 
a majestic look over his shoulder at us and say, "Ah, you 
perceive? It is as I have said — I am the king of drivers." 
Every time we just missed going to destruction, he would say, 
with tranquil happiness, " Enjoy it, gentlemen, it is very rare, 
it is very unusual — it is given to few to ride with the king 
of drivers — and observe, it is as I have said, /am he." 

He spoke in French, and punctuated with hiccups. His 
friend was French, too, but spoke in German — using the same 
system of punctuation, however. The friend called himself 
the " Captain of Mont Blanc," and w^anted us to make the 
ascent with him. He said he had made more ascents than 
any other man, — 47, — and his brother had made 37. His 
brother was the best guide in the world, except himself — 
29 



498 



BENEFITS OF GETTING DRUNK. 



but he, yes, observe him well, — he was the " Captain of Mont 
Blanc " — that title belonged to none other. 

The "king" was as good as his word — be overtook that 
long procession of tourists and went by it like a hurricane. 
The result was that we got choicer rooms at the hotel in Cha- 
monix than we should have done if his majesty had been a 
slower artist — or rather, if he hadn't most providentially 
got drunk before he left Argentiere. 




CHAPTEK XLIIL 

EYEKYBODY was out of doors ; everybody was in the 
principal street of the village, — not on the sidewalks, 
but all over the street ; everybody w^as lounging, loafing, chat- 
ting, waiting, alert, expectant, interested, — for it was train- 
time. That is to say, it was diligence-time — the half dozen 
big diligences would soon be arriving from Geneva, and the 
village was interested, in many ways, in knowing how many 
people were coming and what sort of folk they might be. It 
was altogether the livest looking street we had seen in any 
village on the continent. 

The hotel was by the side of a booming torrent, whose 
music was loud and strong; we could not see this torrent, 
for it was dark, now, but one could locate it without a light. 
There was a large enclosed yard in front of the hotel, and this 
was filled with groups of villagers waiting to see the dili- 
gences arrive, or to hire themselves to excursionists for the 
morrow. A telescope stood in the yard, with its huge barrel 
canted up toward the lustrous evening star. The long porch 
of the hotel was populous with tourists, who sat in shawls 
and wraps under the vast overshadowing bulk of Mont 
Blanc, and gossiped or meditated. 

Never did a mountain seem so close; its big sides seemed 
at one's very elbow, and its majestic dome, and the lofty 
cluster of slender minarets that were its neighbors, seemed 

409 



500 STARTLING CONTRACT. 

to be almost over one's head. It was night in the streets, 
and the lamps were sparkling everywhere; the broad bases 
and shoulders of the mountains were in a deep gloom, but 
their summits swam in a strange rich glow which was really 
daylight, and yet had a mellow something about it which was 
very different from the hard white glare of the kind of day- 
light 1 was used to. Its radiance was strong and clear, but 
at the same time it was singularly soft, and spiritual, and be- 
nignant. No, it was not our harsh, aggressive, realistic day- 
light ; it seemed properer to an enchanted land — or to heaven. 
I had seen moonlight and daylight together before, but I 
had not seen daylight and black night elbow to elbow before. 
At least I liad not seen the daylight resting upon an object 
sufficiently close at hand, before, to make the contrast start- 
ling and at war with nature. 

The daylight passed away. Presently the moon rose up be- 
hind some of those sky-piercing fingers or pinnacles of bare 
rock of which I have spoken — they were a little to the left 
of the crest of Mont Blanc, and right over our heads, — but 
she couldn't manage to climb high enough toward heaven to 
get entirely above them. She would show the glittering arch 
of her upper third, occasionally, and scrape it along behind 
tlie comb-like row" ; sometimes a pinnacle stood straight up, 
like a statuette of ebony, against that glittering white shield, 
then seemed to glide out of it by its own volition and power, 
and become a dim spectre, whilst the next pinnacle glided in- 
to its place and blotted the spotless disk with the black ex- 
clamation point of its presence. The top of one pinnacle took 
the shapely, clean-cut form of a rabbit's head, in the inkiest 
silhouette, while it rested against the moon. The unillumin- 
ed peaks and minarets, hovering vague and phantom-like 
above us while the others were painfully white and strong 
with snow and moonlight, made a peculiar effect. 

But when the moon, having passed the line of pinnacles, 
was hidden behind the stupendous white swell of Mont Blanc, 
the masterpiece of the evening was flung on the canvas. A 
rich greenish radiance sprang into the sky from behind the 




STREET m CHAMONTX. 



CHAMONIX GUILD OF GUIDES. 503 

mountain, and in this some airy shreds and ribbons of vapor 
floated about, and being fiuslied with that strange tint, went 
waving to and fro like pale green flames. After a while, ra- 
diating bars, — vast l)roadening fan-shaped shadows, — grew 
up and stretched away to the zenith from behind the mount- 
ain. It was a spectacle to take one's breath, for the wonder 
of it, and the sublimity. 

Indeed, those mighty bars of alternate light and shadow 
streaming up from behind that dark and prodigious form and 
occupying the half of the didl and opaque heavens, was the 
most imposing and impressive marvel I had ever looked upon. 
There is no simile for it, for nothing is -like it. If a child 
had asked me what it was, I should have said, " Huml)le your- 
self, in this presence, it is the glory flowing from the hidden 
head of the Creator." One falls shorter of the truth than 
that, sometimes, in trying to explain mysteries to the little 
people. I could have found out the cause of this awe-com- 
pelling miracle by inquiring, for it is not infrequent at Mont 
Blanc, — but I did not wish to know. We have not the rever- 
ent feeling for the rainbow that a savage has, because we 
know how it is made. We have lost as much as we gained 
by prying into that matter. 

We took a walk down street, a block or two, and at a place 
where four streets met and tlie principal shops were clustered, 
found the groups of men in the roadway thicker than ever — 
for this was the Exchange of Chamonix. These men were 
in the costumes of guides and porters, and were there to be 
hired. 

The office of that great personage, the Guide-in-Chief of 
the Chamonix Guild of Guides, was near by. This guild is 
a close corporation, and is governed by strict laws. There 
are many excursion-routes, some dangerous and some not, 
some that can be made safely without a guide, and some that 
cannot. The bureau determines these things. Where it de- 
cides that a guide is necessary, you are forbidden to go with- 
out one. Neither are you allowed to be a victim of extor- 
tion ; the law states what you are to pay. The guides serve 



504 



GIVING DIPLOMAS. 



in rotation ; you cannot select the man who is to take your 
life into his hands, you must take the worst in the lot, if it 
is his turn. 

A guide's fee ranges all the way up from a half dollar (for 
some trifling excursion of a few rods,) to twenty dollars, ac- 
cording to the distance traversed and the nature of the ground. 
A. guide's fee for taking a person to the summit of Mont 
Blanc and back, is twenty dollars — and he earns it. The 
time employed is usually three days, and there is enough 
early rising in it to make a man far more "healthy and 
wealthy and wise" than any one man has any right to be. 
The porter's fee for the same trip is ten dollars. Several 
fools, — no, I mean several tourists, — usually go together, and 
divide up the expense, and thus make it light ; for if only 
one f — tourist, I mean — went, he would 
have to have several guides and porters, 
and that w^ould made the matter costly. 

We went into the Chief's office. There 
were maps of mountains on the walls ; also 
one or two lithographs of celebrated guides 
and a portrait of the scientist De Saussure. 
In glass cases were some labeled frag- 
ments of boots and batons, and other sug- 
gestive relics and remembrancers of casual- 



ities on Mont Blanc. In a book w^as a record 
of all the ascents which have ever been 
made, beginning with Nos. 1 and 2, — being 
those of Jacques Balmat and De Saussure, 
in 1Y87, and ending with No. 685, which 
wasn't cold yet. In fact No. 685 was stand- 
ing: bv the official table waiting to receive 
THE p'lotjD GERMAN theprccious official diploma which should 
prove to his German household and to his descendants that 
he had once been indiscreet enough to climb to the top of 
Mont Blanc. He looked very happy when he got his docu- 
ment ; in fact, he spoke up and said he was happy. 




BUYING A DIPLOMA. 



505 



I tried to buy a diploma for an invalid friend at home 
who had never traveled, and whose desire all his life has 
been to ascend Mont Blanc, but the Guide-in-Chief rather 
insolently refused to sell me one. I was very much offended. 
I said 1 did not propose to be discriminated against on 
acconnt of my nationality ; that he had just sold a diploma 
to this German gentleman, and my money was as good as 
his ; I would see to it that he couldn't keep shop for Ger- 
mans and deny his produce 



to Americans ; I would 
have his license taken away 
from him at the dropping 
of a handkerchief ; if 
France refused to break 
him, I would make an inter- 
national matter of it and 
bring on a war ; the soil 
should be drenched with 
blood ; and not only that, 
but I would set up an op- 
position shop and sell di- 
plomas at half price. 

For two cents I would 
hav^e done these things, 
too ; but nobody offered 
me the two cents. I tried 
to move that German's feel- 
ings, but it could not be 
done ; he would not give 




THE INDIGNANT. TOtJEISTo 

me his diploma, neither would he sell it to me. I told him 
my friend was sick and could not come himself, but he said 
he did not care a verdammtes pfennig, he wanted his diploma 
for himself — did I suppose he was going to risk his neck 
for that thing and then give it to a sick stranger? Indeed 
lie wouldn't, so he wouldn't. I resolved, then, that I would' 
do all I could to injure Mont Blanc. 



606 THE CONQUEROR OF MONT BLANC. 

In the record book was a list of all the fatal accidents which 
had happened on the mountain. It began with the one in 
1S20 when the Russian Dr. Hamel's three guides were lost 
in a crevasse of the glacier, and it recorded the delivery of 
the remains in the valley by the slow-moving glacier 41 years 
later. The latest catastrophe bore date 187Y. 

We stepped out and roved about the village a while. In 
front of the little cliurch was a monument to the memory of 
the bold guide Jacques Balmat, the first man who ever stood 
upon the summit of Mont Blanc. He made that wild trip 
solitary and alone. He accomplished the ascent a number 
of times afterward. A stretch of nearly half a century lay 
between his first ascent and his last one. At the ripe old age 
of 72 he was climbing around a corner of a lofty precipice 
of the Pic du Midi — ^nobody with him — when he slipped and 
fell. So he died in the harness. 

He had grown very avaricious in his old age, and used to 
go ofi" stealthily to hunt for non-existent and impossible gold 
among those perilous peaks and precipices. He was on a 
quest of that kind when he lost his life. There was a statue 
to him, and another to De Saussure, in the hall of our hotel, 
and a metal plate on the door of a room up stairs bore an in- 
scription to the effect that that room had been occupied by 
Albert Smith. Balmat and De Saussure discovered Mont 
Blanc — so to speak — but it was Smith who made it a paying 
property. His articles in Blackwood and his lectures on 
Mont Blanc in London advertised it and made people as anx- 
ious to see it as if it owed them money. 

As we strolled along the road we looked up and saw a red 
signal light glowing in the darkness of the mountain side. 
It seemed but a trifling way up, — perhaps a hundred yards, 
a climb of ten minutes. It was a lucky piece of sagacity in 
us that we concluded to stop a man whom we met and get a 
light for our pipes from him instead of continuing the climb 
to that lantern to get a light, as had been onr purpose. The 
man said that that lantern was on the Grands Mnlets, some 



PKOFESSIONAL JEALOUSY. 507 

6,500 feet above the valley ! I know by our Riffelberg ex- 
perience, that it would have taken us a good part of a week 
to go up there. I would sooner not smoke at all, than take 
all that trouble for a light. 

Even in the daytime the foreshortening effect of the mount- 
ain's close proximity creates curious deceptions. For instance, 
one sees with the naked eye a cabin up there beside the gla- 
cier, and a little above and beyond he sees the spot where 
that red light was located ; he thinks he could throw a stone 
from the one place to the other. But he couldn't, for the 
difference between the two altitudes is more than 3,000 feet. 
It looks impossible, from below, that this can be true, but it 
is true, nevertheless. 

While strolling about, we kept the run of the moon all the 
time, and we still kept an eye on her after we got back to 
the hotel portico. I had a theory that the gravitation of re- 
fraction, being subsidiary to atmospheric compensation, the 
ref rangibility of the earth's surface w^ould emphasize this ef- 
fect in regions where great mountain ranges occur, and pos- 
sibly so even-handedly impact the odic and idyllic forces to- 
gether, the one upon the other, as to prevent the moon from 
rising higher than 12,200 feet above sea level. This daring 
theory had been received with frantic scorn by some of my 
fellow-scientists, and with an eager silence by others. Among 

the former I may mention Prof. H y ; and among the 

latter Prof. T 1. Such is professional jealousy ; a sci- 
entist will never show any kindness for a theory which he 
did not start himself. There is no feeling of brotherhood 
among these people. Indeed, they always resent it when I 
call them brother. To show how far their ungenerosity can 

carry them, I will state that I offered to let Prof. H y 

publish my great theory as his owm discovery ; I even beg' 
god him to doit; I even proposed to print it myself as his 
theory. Instead of thanking me, he said that if I tried to 
fasten that theory on him he would sue me for slander. I 
was going to offer it to Mr Darwin, whom I understood to 



508 A SCIENTIFIC PROPOSITION ESTABLISHED. 

be a mau without prejudices, but it occurred to me that per- 
haps he would not be interested in it since it did not concern 
heraldry. 

But I am glad, now, that I was forced to father my in- 
trepid theory myself, for on the night of which I am writing, 
it was triumphantly justified and established. Mont Blanc 
is nearly 16,000 feet high ; he hid the moon utterly ; near 
him is a peak which is 12,216 feet high; the moon slid along 
behind the pinnacles, and when she approached that one 1 
watched her with intense interest, for my reputation as a 
scientist must stand or fall by its decision. I cannot describe 
the emotions which surged like tidal waves through my 
breast when I saw the moon glide behind that lofty needle 
and pass it by without exposing more than two feet four 
inches of her upper rim above it ! I was secure, then. I 
knew she could rise no liigher, and I was right. She sailed 
behind all the peaks and never succeded in hoisting her disk 
above a single one of them. 

"While the moon was behind one of those sharp fingers, 
its shadow was fi[ung athwart the vacant heavens — a long, 
slanting, clean-cut, dark ray — with a streaming and energetic 
suggestion oi force about it, such as the ascending jet of wa- 
ter from a powerful fire engine afibrds. It was curious to 
see a good strong shadow of an earthly object cast upon so 
intangible a field as the atmosphere. 

We went to bed, at last, and went quickly to sleep, but 1 
woke up, after about three hours, with throbbing temples, 
and a head which was physically sore, outside and in. I was 
dazed, dreamy, wretched, seedy, unrefreshed. I recognized 
the occasion of all this; it was that torrent. In the mount- 
ain villages of Switzerland, and along the roads, one has al- 
ways the roar of the torrent in his ears. He imagines it is 
music, and he thinks poetic things abont it ; he lies in his 
comfortable bed and is lulled to sleep by it. But by and by 
he begins to notice that his head is very sore — he cannot ac- 
count for it ; in solitudes where the profoandest silence reigns, 



EFFECTS OF MOUNTAIN MUSIC. 



509 



he notices a sullen, distant, continuous roar in his ears, which 

is like what he would experi- 
ence if he had sea shells press- 
\N ed agtiinst them— he cannot 
account for it ; he is drowsy 



and absent minded; there is 
no tenacity to his mind, he 
cannot keep hold of a thought 
and follow it out ; if he sits 
down to write, his vocabulary 
is empty, no suitable words 
will come, he forgets what he 
started to do, and remains 
there, pen in hand, head tilted 
up, eyes closed, listening pain- 
fully to tlie muffled roar of a 
distant train in his ears; in 
his soundest sleep, the strain 
continues, he goes on listen- 
ing, alwaj^s listening, intently, 
anxiously, and wakes at last, 
harrassed, irritable, unrefresli- 
ed. He cannot manage to 
account for these things. Day 
after day he feels as if he had 
spent his nights in a sleeping 
car. It actually takes him 
weeks to find out that it is 
those persecuting torrents 
that have been making all the 
mischief. It is time for him 
to get out of Switzerland, 
then, for as soon as he has 
discovered the cause, the mis- 
ery is magnified several fold. 




MUSIC OF SWITZERLAND. 



The roar of the torrent is maddening, then, for his imagi 



;io 



AN HONEST LABORER IN DANGER. 




nation is assisting; the physical pain it inflicts is exquisite. 
When he finds he is approacliing one of those streams, his 
dread is so lively that he is disposed to fly the track and 
avoid the implacable foe. 

Eiecht or nine months after the distress of the torrents had 
departed froVn me, the roar and thunder of the streets of Paris 
brought it all back again. I moved to the sixth story of tlie 
hotel to hunt for peace. About midnight the noises dulled 
away, and I was sinking to sleep, when I heard a new and 
curious sound ; I listened : evidently some joyous lunatic was 

softly dancing a " double shuffle " in 
the room over my head. I had to 
wait for him to get through, of 
course. Five long, long minutes he 
smoothly shuffled away — a pause 
followed, then something fell with 
a heavy thump on the floor. I said 
to myself " There — he is pulling off 
his boots — thank 
heavens he is done." 
Another slight pause 
—he went to shuf- 
fling; affain ! I said 
to myself, " Is he try- 
ing to see what he 
can do with only one 
boot on?" Preser.tly 
came another pause 
and another thump 
on the floor. T said " Good, he has 
pulled off his other hoot— now he is 
done." But he wasn't. The next 
mornent he was shuffling again. I 
said, " Confound him, he is at it in 
his slippers ! " After a little came that same old pause, and 
right after it that thump on the floor once more. I said, 





ONLY A MISTAKE. 



LEGITIMATE BUSINESS. 



511 



" Hang him, lie had on two pair of boots ! " For an hour 
that magician went on shuffling and pulling off boots till he 
had shed as many as twenty -live pair, and I was hovering on 
the verge of lunacy. I got my gun and stole up there. The 
fellow was in the midst of an acre of sprawling boots, and he 
liad a boot in his hand, shuffling it — no I mean polishing it. 
The mystery was explained. He hadn't been dancing. He 
was the " Boots" of the hotel, and was attending to business. 




CHAPTER XLIV. 

AFTER breakfast, that next morning in Chamonix, we 
went out in the yard and watched the gangs of excur- 
sionizing tourists arriving and departing with their mules 
and guides and porters ; then we took a look through the tele- 
scope at the snowy hump of Mont Blanc. It was brilliant 
with sunshine, and the vast smooth bulge seemed hardly five 
hundred yards away. "With the naked eye we could dimly 
make out the house at the Pierre Pointue, which is located 
by the side of the great glacier, and is more than 3,000 feet 
above the level of the valley ; but with the telescope we 
could see all its details. While I looked, a woman rode by 
the house on a mule, and I saw her with sharp distinctness ; 
I could have described her dress. I saw her nod to the 
people of the house, and rein up her mule, and put her hand 
up to shield her eyes from the sun. I was not used to tele- 
scopes ; in fact I never had looked through a good one 
before ; it seemed incredible to me that this woman could 
be so far away. I was satisfied that I could see all these 
details with my naked eye ; but when I tried it, that mule 
and those vivid people had wholly vanished, and the house 
itself was become small and vague. I tried the telescope 
again, and again everything was vivid. The strong black 
shadows of the mule and the woman were flung against the 
side of the house, and I saw the mule's silhouette wave its ears. 

512 




PREPARING FOR THE START. 



I 



A PERILOUS TRIP RESOLVED ON. 515 

The telescopulist, — or the telescopulariat, — I do not know 
which is right, — said a party were making the grand ascent, 
and would come in sight on the remote upper heights, pres- 
ently; so we waited to observe this performance. 

Presently 1 had a superb idea. 1 wanted to stand with a 
party on the summit of Mont Blanc, merely to be able to 
say I had done it, and I believed the telescope could set me 
within seven feet of the uppermost man. The telescoper 
assured me that it could. 1 then asked him how much I 
owed him for as far as I had got ? lie said, one franc. I 
asked him how much it would cost me to make the entire 
ascent ? Three francs. I at once determined to make the 
entire ascent. But first I inquired if there was any danger ? 
He said no, — not by telescope ; said he had taken a great 
many parties to the summit, and never lost a man. I asked 
what he would charge to let my agent go with me, together 
with such guides and porters as might be necessary ? He 
said he would let Harris go for two francs ; and that unless 
we were unusually timid, he should consider guides and 
porters unnecessary ; it was not customary to take them, 
when going by telescope, for they were rather an incumbrance 
than a help. He said that the party now on the mountain 
were approaching the most difficult part, and if we hurried 
we should overtake them within ten minutes, and could then 
join them and have the benefit of their guides and porters 
without their knowledge, and witliout expense to us. 

1 then said we would start immediately. I believe I said 
it calmly, though I was conscious of a shudder and of a 
paling cheek, in view of the nature of the exploit I was so 
unreflectingly engaging in. But the old dare-devil spirit was 
upon me, and I said that as I had committed myself I would 
not back down ; I would ascend Mont Blanc if it cost me 
my life. I told the man to slant his machine in the proper 
direction and let us be off. 

Harris was afraid and did not want to go, but I heartened 
him up and said I would hold his hand all the way ; so he 
gave his consent, though he trembled a little at first. I took 



51 6 CLLVIBIAG UP MOMT BLANC. 

a last pathetic look upon the pleasant summer scene about 
me, then boldlj put my eye to the glass and prepared to 
mount among the grim glaciers and the everlasting snows. 

We tuok our waj carefully and cautiously across the great 
Glacier des Bossons, over yawning and terrific crevasses and 
amongst imposing crags and butti'esses of ice which were 
fringed with icicles of gigantic proportions. The desert of 
ice that stretched far and wide about us was wild and deso- 
late beyond description, and the perils which beset us were 
so great that at times I was minded to turn back. But 1 
pulled my pluck together and pushed on. 

We passed the glacier safely and began to mount the steeps 
beyond, with great celerity. When we were seven minutes 
out from the starting point, we reached an altitude where 
the scene took a new aspect ; an apparently limitless conti- 
nent of gleaming snow was tilted heavenward befc-ie our 
faces. As my eye followed that awful acclivity far away up 
into the remote skies, it seemed to me that all I had ever 
seen before of sublimity and magnitude was small and insig- 
nificant compared to this. 

We rested a moment, and then began to mount with speed. 
Within three minutes we caught sight of the party ahead of 
us, and stopped to observe them. They were toiling up a 
long, slanting ridge of snow — twelve persons, roped together 
some fifteen feet apart, marching in single file, and strongly 
marked against the clear blue sky. One was a woman. We 
could see them lift their feet and put them down ; we saw 
them swing their alpenstocks forward in unison, like so 
many pendulums, and then bear their weight upon them ; 
we saw the lady wave her handkerchief. They dragged 
themselves upward in a worn and weary way, for they had 
been climbing steadily from the Grands Mulcts, on the 
Glacier des Bossons, since three in the morning, and it was 
eleven, now. We saw them sink down in the snow and rest, 
and drink something from a bottle. After a while they 
moved on, and as they approached the final short dash of the 
home-stretch we closed up on them and joined them. 



ON THE SUMMIT. 



51P 



Presently we all stood together on the summit ! What a 
view was spread out below ! Away off under the north- 
western horizon rolled the silent billows of the Farnese 
Oberland, their snowy crests glinting softly in the subdued 
lights of distance ; in the north rose the giant form of the 
Wobblehorn, draped from peak to shoulder in sable thunder- 
clouds ; beyond him, to the right, stretched the grand pro- 
cessional summits of the Cisalpine Cordillera, drowned in a 
sensuous haze ; to the east loomed the colossal masses of the 
Yodelhorn, the Fudalehorn and the Dinnerhorn, their cloud- 
less summits flashing white and cold in the sun ; beyond 
them shimmered the faint far line of the Ghauts of Jub- 
belpore and the Aiguilles des Alleghenies ; in the south 
towered the smoking peak of Popocatapetl and the unap- 




"WE ALL RAISED A TREMENDOUS SHOUT." 

proachable altitudes of the peerless Serabblehorn ; in the 

west-south-west the stately range of the Himmalayas lay 

dreaming in a purole gloom ; and thence all around the 
30' 



520 THE DESCENT. 

curving horizon the eye roved over a troubled sea of sun- 
kissed Alps, and noted, here and there, the noble proportions 
and soaring domes of the Bottlehorn, and the Saddlehorn, 
and the Shovelhorn, and the Powderhorn, all bathed in the 
glorj of noon and mottled v^rith softly-gliding blots, the 
shadows flung from drifting clouds. 

O^'ercome bj the scene, we all raised a triumphant, tre- 
mendous shout, in unison. A startled man at my elbow 



" Confound you, what do you yell like that, for, right here 
in the street ? " 

That brought me down to Chamonix, like a flirt. I gave 
that man some spiritual advice and disposed of him, and 
then paid the telescope man his full fee, and said that we 
were charmed with the trip and would remain down, and 
not re-ascend and require him to fetch us down by tele- 
scope. This pleased him very much, for of course we could 
have stepped back to the summit and put him to the trouble 
of bringing us home if we had wanted to. 

I judged we could get diplomas, now, anyhow ; so we 
went after them, but the Chief Guide put us off, with one 
pretext or another, during all the time we staid in Cham- 
onix, and we ended by never getting them at all. So much 
for his prejudice against people's nationality. However, we 
worried him enough to make him remember us and our ascent 
for some time. He even said, once, that he wished there 
was a lunatic asylum in Chamonix. This shows that he 
really had fears that we were going to drive him mad. It 
was what we intended to do, but lack of time defeated it. 

I cannot venture to advise the reader one way or the other, 
as to ascending Mont Blanc. I say only this: if he is at all 
timid, the enjoyments of the trip will hardly make up for 
the hardships and sufferings he will have to endure. But if 
he has good nerve, youth, health, and a bold, firm will, and 
could leave his family comfortably provided for in case the 
worst happened, he would find the ascent a wonderful 



THE DISASTER OF 1866. 521 

experience, and the view from the top a vision to dream 
about, and tell about, and recall with exultation all the days 
of his life. 

While I do not advise such a person to attempt the ascent, 
I do not advise liiin against it. But if he elects to attempt 
it, let him be warily careful of two things: choose a calm 
clear day ; and do not pay the telescope man in advance. 
There are dark stories of his getting advance-payers on the 
summit and then leaving them there to rot. 

A frightful tragedy was once witnessed through the Cham- 
onix telescopes. Think of questions and answers like these, 
on an inquest : 

Coroner. You saw deceased lose his life? 

Witness. 1 did. 

G. Where was he, at the time ? 

W. Close to the summit of Mont Blanc. 

G. Where were you ? 

TT. In the main street of Chamonix. 

G. What was the distance between you? 

W. A little over fine miles., as the bird flies. 

This accident occurred in 1866, a year and a month after 
the disaster on the Matterhorn. Three adventurous English 
gentlemen,* of great experience in mountain climbing, made 
up their minds to ascend Mont Blanc without guides or por- 
ters. All endeavors to dissuade them from their project fail- 
ed. Powerful telescopes are numerous in Chamonix. These 
huge brass tubes, mounted on their scaffoldings and pointing 
skyward from every choice vantage-ground, have the formi- 
dable look of artillery, and give the town the general aspect 
of getting ready to repel a charge of angels. The reader 
may easily believe that the telescopes had plenty of custom 
on that August morning in 1866, for everybody knew of the 
dangerous undertaking which was on foot, and all had fears 
that misfortune would result. All the morning the tubes 



* Sir George Young and his brothers James and Alberts 



522 THE ACCIDENT AS SEEN FROM CHAMONIX. 

remained directed toward the mountain heiglits, each with 
its anxious group around it; but the white deserts were va- 
cant. 

At last, toward eleven o'clock, the people who were look- 
ing through the teleccopes cried out " There they are ! " — 
and sure etiough, far up, on the loftiest terraces of the Grand 
Plateau, the three pygmies appeared, climbing with remarka- 
ble vigor and spirit. They disappeared in the " Corridor," 
and were lost to sight during an hour. Then they reappear- 
ed, and were presently seen standing together upon the ex- 
treme summit of Mont Blanc. So far, all was well. They 
remained a few minutes on that highest point of land in Eu- 
r >pe, a target for all the telescopes, and were then seen to 
begin the descent. Suddenly all three vanished. An in- 
stant after, they appeared again, two thousand feet helow ! 

Evidently they had tripped and been shot down an almost 
perpendicular slope of ice to a point where it joined the bor- 
der of the upper glacier. Naturally the distant witnesses 
supposed they were now looking upon three corpses; so they 
could hardly believe their eyes when they presently saw two 
of the men rise to their feet and bend over the third. Du- 
ring two hours and a half they watched the two busying them- 
selves over the extended form of their brother, who seemed 
entirely inert. Chamonix's affairs stood still; everybody 
was in the street, all interest was centered upon what was 
going on upon that lofty and isolated stage five miles away. 
Finally, the two, — one of them walking with great difficulty, 

were seen to begin the descent, abandoning the third, who 

was no doubt lifeless. Their movements were followed, 
step by step, until they reached the " Corridor" and disap- 
peared behind its ridge. Before they had had time to trav- 
erse the "Corridor" and reappear, twilight w^as come, and 
the power of the telescopes was at an end. 

The survivors had a most perilous journey before them in 
the gathering darkness, for they must get down to the Grands 
Muiets before they would find a safe stopping place— a 



THE BRAVE BROTHERS. 



523 



long and tedious descent, and peiilons enough even in good 
day-light. The oldest guides expressed the opinion that they 
could not succeed; tliat all the cliances were that they would 
lose their lives. 

Yet those brave men did succeed. They reached the Grands 
Mulets in safety. Even the fearful shock which their ner\ es 
had sustained was not suthcient to overcome their coolness 
and courage. It would appear from the official account that 




THE GRANDS MULETS. 



ihey were threading their way down through those dangers 
from the closing in of twilight until 2 o'clock in the morn- 
ing, or later, because the rescuing party from Chamonix 
reached the Grands Mulets about 3 in the morning and mov- 
ed thence toward the scene of the disaster under the leader- 
ship of Sir George Young, " who had only just arrived." 



524 



THE KESCUIKG PARTY. 



After having been on Lis feet twenty-four Lours, in tLe 
exhausting work of mountain-climbing, Sir George began tLe 
re-ascent at the Lead of tLe relief party of six guides, to re- 
cover tLe corpse of Lis brotLer. TLis was considered a new 
imprudence, as tLe number was too few for tlie service requir- 
ed. AnotLer relief party pi-esently arrived at tLe cabin on 
tLe Grands Mulcts and quartered tLemselves tLere to await 




CABIN ON THE GRANDS MULETS. 



events. Ten Lours after Sir George's departure toward tlie 
summit. tLis new relief were still scanning tLe snowy alti- 
tudes al)ove them from tlieir own liigL, percL among tLe ice- 
deserts 10,000 feet above tlie level of tLe sea, but tLe wLole 
forenoon Lad passed witLout a glimpse of any living tLing 
appearing np tLere. 

TLis was alarming. Haifa dozen of tlieir number set out, 
tLen, early in tLe afternoon, to seek and succor Sir George 



THE SAFE RETURN. 525 

and his guides. The persons remaining at the cabin saw these 
disappear, and then ensued another distressing wait. Four 
liours passed, without tidings. Then at 5 o'clock another re- 
lief, consisting of three guides, set forward from the cabin. 
Thej carried food and cordials for the refreshment of their 
predecessors ; they took lanterns with them, too ; night was 
coming on, and to make matters worse, a fine, cold rain had 
begun to fall. 

Ad the same hour that these three began their dangerous 
ascent, the official Guide-in-Chief of the Mont Blanc region 
undertook the dangerous descent to Chamonix, all alone, to 
get reinforcements. However, a couple of hours later, at 7 p. 
m., the anxious solicitude came to an end, and happily. A 
bugle note was heard, and a cluster of black specks was dis- 
tinguishable against the snows of the upper heights. Tiie 
watchers counted these specks eagerly — 14, — nobody was 
missing. An hour and a half later they were all safe under 
the roof of the cabin. They had brought the corpse with 
them. Sir Greorge Young tarried there but^a few minutes, 
and then began the long and troublesome descent from the 
cabin to Chamonix. He probably reached there about 2 or 
3 o'clock in the morning, after having been afoot among the 
rocks and glaciers during two days and two nights. His en- 
dui-atice was equal to his daring. 

The cause of tiie unaccountable delay of Sir Georo-e and 
the relief parties among the heights where the disaster had 
happened was a thick fog— or, partly that and partly the slow 
and difficult work of conveying the dead body down the peril- 
ous steeps. 

The corpse, upon being viewed at the inquest, showed no 
bruises, and it was sometime before the surgeons discovered 
that the neck was broken. One of the surviving brothers 
had sustained some unimportant injuries, but the other had 
suffered no hurt at all. How these men could fall 2,000 feet, 
almost perpendicularly, and live afterward, is a most strange 
and unaccountable tliinsr. 



526 



ROMANCE OF MONT BLANC. 



A great many women have made the ascent of Mont Blanc. 
An English girl, Miss Stratton, conceived the daring idea, 
two or three years ago, of attempting the ascent in the mid- 
dle of winter. She tried it — and she succeeded. Moreover, 
she froze two of her fingers on the way up, she fell in love 

with her guide on the summit, and 
she married liim when she got to 
the bottom again. There is noth- 
ing in romance, in the way of a 
striking " situation," which can 
beat this Ir ve-scene in mid-heaven 
on an isolated ice- crest wdth the 
thermometer at zero and an Arctic 
gale blowing. 

The first woman who ascended 
Mcnt Blanc was a girl aged 22 — 
Mile. Maria Paradis— 1809. Ko- 
body was with her but her sweet- 
heart, and he was not a guide. 
The sex then took a rest for about 
30 years, when aMlle.d'Angeville 
made the ascent — 1838. In Cha- 
monix I picked up a rude old lithograph 
of that day which pictured her " in the act. 
However, I value it less as a work of art 
KEEPING WARM. thau as a fashion plate. Miss d'Angeville 
put on a pair of men's pantaloons to climb in, which was 
wise ; but she cramped their utility by adding her petticoat, 
which was idiotic. 

One of the mournfulest calamities which men's disposition 
to climb dangerous mountains luts resulted in, happened on 
Mont B.anc in September, 18T0. Mr. d'Arve tells the story 
briefly in his " Histoire du Mont Blanc." In the next chap 
ter I will copy its chief features. 




CHAPTER XLY. 

A CATASTEOPHE WHICH COST ELEVEN LIVES. 

ON the 5th of September, 1870, a caravan of eleven per- 
sons departed from Chamonix to make the ascent of 
Mont Bianc. Three of the party were tourists : Messrs. Ran- 
dall and Bean, Americans, and Mr. George Corkindale, a 
Scotch gentleman ; there were three guides and five porters. 
The cabin on the Grands Mulcts was reached that day ; the 
ascent was resumed early the next morning, Sept. 6. The 
day was fine and clear, and the movements of the party were 
observed through the telescopes of Chamonix ; at 2 o'clock 
in the afternoon they were seen to reach the summit. A 
few minutes later they were seen making the first steps of 
the descent ; then a cloud closed around them and hid them 
from view. 

Eight hours passed, the cloud still remained, night came, 
no one had returned to the Grands Mulcts. Sylvain Cout- 
tet, keeper of the cabin there, suspected a misfortune, and 
sent down to the valley for help. A detachment of guides 
went up, bat by the time they had made the tedious trip and 
reached the cabin, a raging storm had set in. They liad to 
wait ; notliing could be attempted in such a tempest. 

The wild storm lasted more than a weeJc, without ceasing ; 
but on the 17th, Couttet, with several guides, left the cabin 
and succeeded in making the ascent. In the snowy wastes 

527 



528 WITHIN FIVE STEPS OF SAFETY. 

near the summit tliey came upon five bodies, lying upon 
tlieir sides in a reposeful attitude which suggested that pos- 
sibly they had fallen asleep, there, while exhausted with fa- 
tio-ue and huno;er, and benumbed with cold, and never knew 
wbei» «death stole upon tliem. Couttet moved a few steps 
further and discovered five more bodies. The eleventh 
corp-^e, — that of a porter, — was not found, although diligent 
seai-«li was made for it. 

li the pocket of Mr. Bean, one of the Americans, was 
found a note-book in which had been penciled some senten- 
ces which admit us, in flesh and spirit, as it were, to the 
presence of these men during their last hours of life, and to 
the grisly horrors which their fading vision looked upon 
and their failing consciousness took cognizance of: 

Tuesday, Sept. 6 I have made the ascent of Mont Blanc, with ten per- 
sons eight guides, and Mr. Corkindale and Mr. Randall. We reached the 

summit at half past 2. Immediately after quitting it, w'e^were enveloped in 
clouds of snow. We passed the night in a grotto hollowed in the snow, 
which afforded but poor shelter, and I was ill all night. 

Sept. 7 — Morning. The cold is excessive. The snow falls heavily and 
without interruption. The guides take no rest. 

Evening. My Dear Hessie, we have been two days on Mont Blanc, in 
the midst of a terrible hurricane of snow, we have lost our way, and are in 
a hole scooped in the snow, at an altitude of 15,000 feet. I have no longer 
any hope of descending. 

They had wandered around, and around, in that blinding 
snow storm, hopelessly lost, in a space only a hundred yards 
square ; and when cold and fatigue vanquished them at last, 
they scooped tlieir cave and lay down there to die by inches, 
unaware that five steps more would have brought them into 
the true path. They were so near to life and safety as that, 
and did not suspect it. The thought of this gives the sharp- 
est pang that the tragic story conveys. 

The author of the "Eistoiredu Mont Blanc " introduces 
the closing sentences of Mr. Bean's pathetic record thus: 

" Here the characters are large and unstead}^ ; the hand 
which traces them is become chilled and torpid ; but the 



FACING DEATH RESIGNEDLY. 



529 



spirit survives, aud the faith and resignation of the dying 
man are expressed with a sublime simplicity." 

Perhaps this note book will be found and sent to you. We have nothlrg 
to eat, my feet are already frozen, and I am exhausted ; I have strength to 
write only a few words more. I have left means for C.'s education ; 
I know you will employ them wisely. I die with faith in God, and with 
loving thoughts of you. Farewell to all. AVe shall meet again, in 
Heaven. * * * I think of you always. 

It is the M-ay of tlie Alps to deliver death to their victims 
with a merciful swiftness, but here the rule failed. These 
men sujBFered the bitterest death that has been recorded in 
the history of those mountains, freighted as that history is 
with grisly tragedies. 




M 



CHAPTEE XLVI. 

E.. HAERIS and I took some guides and porters and as- 
cended to the Hotel des Pyramides, which is perched 
on the high moraine which bordei-s the Glacier des Bossons. 
The road led sharply np hill, all the way, through grass and 
flowers and woods, and was a pleasant w^alk, barring the fa- 
tigue of the climb. 

From the hotel we could view the huge glacier at very 
close range. After a rest we followed down a path which 
had been made in the steep inner frontage of the moraine, 
and stepped upon the glacier itself. One of the shows of the 
place was a tunnel-like cavern, which had been hewn in the 
glacier. The proprietor of this tunnel took candles and con- 
ducted us into it. It was three or four feet wide and about 
six feet higli. Its walls of pure and solid ice emitted a soft 
and rich blue light that produced a lovely effect, and suggest- 
ed enchanted caves, and that sort of thing. When we had 
proceeded some yards and were entering darkness, we turn- 
ed about and had a dainty sun-lit picture of distant woods 
and heights framed in the strong arch of the tunnel and seen 
through the tender blue radiance of the tunnel's atmosphere. 

The cavern was nearly a hundred yards long, and Mdien we 
reached its inner limit the proprietor stepped into a branch 
tunnel with his candles and left us buried in the bowels of 
the glacier, and in pitch darkness. TVe judged liis purpose 

53') 



LEISURELY MOVEMENTS ADVISABLE. 



531 



was murder and robbery ; so we got out our matches and pre- 
pared to sell our lives as dearly as possible by setting the gla- 
cier on lire if the worst came to the worst — but we soon pei- 
ceived that this man had changed his mind ; he began to sing, 
in a deep, melodious voice, and woke some curious and pleas 
ino- echoes. Bv and by he came back and pretended that that 
was what he had gone behind there, for. We believed as 
much of that as we wanted to. 

Thus our lives had been once more in imminent peril, but 
by the exercise of the swift sagacity and cool courage which 
had saved us so often, we had added another escape to the 
lono- list. The tourist should visit that ice cavern, by all 
means, for it is well worth the trouble; but I would advise 
him to go only with a strong and well armed force. I do not 
consider artillery necessary, yet it would not be unadvisable 
to take it along, if convenient. The journey, going and com- 
ino-, is about three miles and a half, three of which are on lev- 
el ground. We made it in 
less than a day, but I would 
counsel the unpracticed, — if 
not pressed for time, — to 
allow themselves two. 
N"othing is gained in the -f 
Alps by o V e r-exertion ; 
nothing is gained by crowd- 
ing two day's work into one 
for the poor sake of being 
able to boast of the exploit 
afterward. It will be found 
much better, .in the long 
run, to do the thing in two 
days, and then subtract one 
of them from the narrative. This saves fatigue, and does 
not injure the narrative. All the more thoughtful among 
the Alpine tourists do this. 

We now called upon the Guide-in-Chief, and asked for a 




TAKE TT EAST. 



532 ' THE TWO EMPRESSES. 

squadron of guides and porters for the ascent of tlie Montan- 
vert. This idiot glared at us, and said, — 

" You don't need guides and porters to go to the Montan- 
vert." 

" What do we need, then ? " 

" Such as you f — an ambulance ! " 

I was so stung by this brutal remark that I took my cus- 
tom elsewhere. 

Betimes, next morning, we had reached an altitude of 
5,000 feet above the level of the sea. Here we camped and 
breakfasted. There was a cabin there — the spot is called the 
Caillet — and a spring of ice-cold water. On the door of the 
cabin was a sign, in French, to the effect that " One may here 
see a living chamois for 50 centimes." We did not invest ; 
what we wanted was to see a dead one. 

A little after noon we ended the ascent and arrived at the 
new hotel on the Montanvert, and had a view of six miles, 
right up the great glacier, the famous Mer de Glace. At this 
point it is like a sea whose deep swales and long, rolling 
swells have been caught in mid-movement and frozen solid ; 
but further up it is broken up into wildly -tossing billows of 
ice. 

We descended a ticklish path in the steep side of the mor- 
aine, and invaded the glacier. There were tourists of both 
sexes scattered far and wide over it, everywhere, and it had 
the festive look of a skating rink. 

The Empress Josephine came this far, once. She ascend- 
ed the Montanvert in 1810 — but not alone ; a small army of 
men preceded her to clear tlie path — and carpet it, perhaps, 
—and she followed, under the protection of siscty-eight guides. 

Her successor visited Chamonix later, but in far different 
style. It was seven weeks after the first fall of the Empire, 
and poor Marie Louise, ex-Empress, was a fugitive. She 
came at night, and in a storm, with only two attendants, and 
stood before a peasant's hut, tired, bedraggled, soaked with 
rain, " the red print of her lost crown still girdling her brow," 



A SOFT SIMSCURE. 



535 



and implored admittance — and was refused ! A few days 
before, tlie adulations and applauoes of a nation were sound- 
ing in her ears, and now she was come to this ! 

We crossed the Mer de Glace in safety, but we had mis- 
givings. The crevasses in the ice yawned deep and blue 
and mysterious, and it made one nervous to traverse them. 
The huge round waves of ice were slippery and difficult to 
climb, and the chances of tripping and sliding down them 
and darting into a crevasse were too many to be comfortable. 

In the bottom of a deep swale between two of the biggest 
of the ice-waves, we found a fraud who pretended to be cut- 




TAKING TOLL. 



ting steps to insure the safety of tourists. He was "soldier- 
ing " when we came upon him, but he hopped up and chip- 
ped out a couple of steps about big enough for a cat, and 
charged us a franc or two for it. Then he sat dawn again, 
to doze till the next party should come along. He had col- 
lected black mail from two or three hundred people already, 
that day, hnt had not chipped out ice enough to impair the 
glacier perceptibly. T have heard of a good many soft sine- 
cures, bnt it seems to me that keeping toll-bridge on a gla- 
cier is the softest one I have encountered yet. 



536 v\ ateu as a drink. 

That was a blazing hot day, and it brought a persistent 
and persecuting thirst with it. What an unspeakable luxu- 
ry it was to slake that thirst with the pure and limpid ice- 
water of the glacier ! Down the sides of every great rib of 
ice poured limpid rills in gutters carved by their own attri- 
tion ; better still, wherever a rock had lain, there was now 
a bowl-shaped hole, with smooth white sides and bottcm of 
ice, and this bowl was brimming with water of such absolute 
clearness that the careless observer would not see it at all, 
but would think the bowl was empty. These fountains had 
such an alluring look that I often stretched myself out when 
I was not thirsty and dipped my face in and drank till my 
teeth ached. Everywhere among the Swiss mountains we 
had at hand the blessing — not to be found in Europe except 
in the mountains — of water capable of quenching thirst. 
Everywhere in the Swiss highlands brilliant little rills of 
exquisitely cold water went dancing along by the roadsides, 
and my comrade and I were always drinking and always 
delivering our deep gratitude. 

But in Europe everywhere except in the mountains, the 
water is flat and insipid beyond the power of words to de- 
scribe. It is served lukewarm ; but no matter, ice could not 
help it ; it is incurably flat, incurably insipid. It is only 
o-ood to wash with ; I wonder it doesn't occur to the average 
inhabitant to try it for that. In Europe the people say con- 
temptuously, " Nobody drinks water here." Indeed they 
have a sound and suificient reason. In many places they 
even have what may be called prohibitory reasons. In 
Paris and Munich, for instance, they say, " Don't drink the 
water, it is simply poison." 

Either America is healthier than Europe, notwithstand- 
ing her "deadly" indnlgence in ice water, or she does not 
keep the run of her death-rate as sharply as Europe does. I 
think we do keep up the death-statistics accurately : md if 
we do, onr cities are healthier than the cities of Europe. 
Every month the German government tabulates the death- 



DEATH-RATES OF DIFFERENT CITIES. 537 

rate of the world and publishes it. I scrap-booked these 
reports during several months, and it was curious to see how 
regular and persistently each city repeated its same death- 
rate month after month. The tables might as well have 
been stereotyped, they varied so little. These tables were 
based npon weekly reports showing the average of deaths 
in each 1,000 of population for a year. Munich was always 
present with her 33 deaths in each 1,000 of her population 
(yearly average,) Chicago was as constant with her 15 or 17, 
Dublin with her 48 — and so on. 

Only a few American cities appear in these tables, but they 
are scattered so widely over the country that they furnish a 
good general average of city health in the United States ; 
and I think it will be granted that our towns and villages 
are healthier than oui- cities 

Here is the average of the only American cities reported 
rn the German tables : 

Chicago, deaths in 1,000 of population annually, 16 ; Pliila- 
delphia, 18; St. Louis, 18; San Francisco, 19; New York, 
(the Dublin of America,) 23. 

See how the figures jump up, as soon as one arrives at the 
transatlantic list : 

Paris, 27; Glasgow, 27; London, 2S; Vienna, 28; Augs- 
burg, 28 ; Braunschweig, 28 ; Konigsberg, 29 ; Colonge, 29 ; 
Dresden, 29 ; Hamburg, 29 ; Berlin, 30 ; Bombay, 30 ; War- 
saw, 31; Breslau, 31; Odessa, 32; Munich, 33; Strasburg, 
33 ; Pesth, 35 ; Cassel, 35 ; Lisbon, 36 ; Liverpool, 36; Prague, 
37 ; Madras, 37 ; Bucharest, 39 ; St. Petersburg, 40 ; Triest, 
40 ; Alexandria, (Egypt,) 43 ; Dublin, 48 ; Calcutta, 55, 

Edinburg is as healthy as New York — 23 ; but there is no 
city in the entire list which is healthier, except Frankfort-on- 
the-Main — 20. But Frankfort is not as healthy as Chicago, 
San Francisco, St. Louis, or Philadelphia. 

Perhaps a strict average of the world might develop the 

fact that where 1 in 1,000 of America's population dies, 2 in 

1,000 of the other populations of the earth succumb. 

I do not like to make insinuations, but I do think the above 
31 



538 



CLIMBING A MORAINE. 




statistics darkly suggest that these people over here drink this 
detestable water " on the sly." 

We climbed the moraine on the opposite side of the gla- 
cier, and then crept along its sharp ridge a hundred yards or 
so, in pretty constant danger of a tumble 
to the glacier below. The fall would 
have been only 100 feet, but it would 
have closed me out as effectually as 
1,000, therefore I respected the distance 
accordingly, and was glad when the trip 
was done. A 



morame is an 
ugly thing to 
assault head-first. 
At a distance it 
looks like an end- 
less grave of fine 
sand, accurately 
shaped and nice- 
ly smoothed; 
but close by, it 
is found to bo 
made mainly o( 
rough boulderi 
of all sizes, from 
that of a man's 
head to that of a 
cottage. 

By and by we 
came to the 
Mauvais Pas, 
or, the Villainous Road, to translate it feelingly. It was a 
break-neck path around the face of a precipice forty or fifty 
feet high, and nothing to hang on to but some iron railings. 
I got along, slowly, safely, and uncomfortably, and finally 
reached the middle. My hopes began to rise a little, but they 
were quickly blighted ; for there I met a hog— a long-nosed- 



A DESCENDING TOUKIST. 



A HOG ON A PLEASURE EXCURSION. 



539 



seem 



bristly fellow, that held up his snout and worked his nostrils 
at me inquiringly, A hog on a pleasure excursion in Swit- 
zerland — think of it. It is striking and unusual ; a body might 
write a poem about it. He could not retreat, if he had been 
disposed to do it. It wonld have been foolish to stand upon 
our dignity in a place where there was hardly room to stand 
upon our feet, so we did nothing of the sort. There were 
twenty or thirty ladies and gentlemen behind us ; we all turn- 
„ ^.. _^^^ about and M-ent back, and the hog 

d. The creature did not 
?et up by what he had 
he had probably done 
it befoi-e. 

We reached the 
restaurant on the 
height called the Cha- 
peau at 4 in the after- 
noon. It was a me- 
mento-factory, and the 
stock was large, cheap 
and varied. I bought 
the usual paper-cutter 
to remember the place 
by, and had Hont 
Blanc, the Mauvais 
Pas, and the rest of 
the region branded on 
my alpenstock ; then 
we descended to the 
valley and walked 

LEAVING BY DILIGENCE. homO wlthoUt belug 

tied together. This was not dangerous, for the valley was- 
live miles wide, and quite leveh 

We reached the hotel before 9 o'clock. Next morning we 
left for Geneva on top of the dih'gence, under shelter of a 
gay awning. If I remember rightly, there were more than 
twenty people up there. It was so high that the ascent was 




640 



THE SATISFIED ENGLISHMAN. 



made bj ladder. The huge vehicle was full everywhere, in- 
side and out. Five other diligences left at the same time, all 
full. We had engaged our seats two days beforehand, to 
make sure, and paid the regulation price, five dollars each ; 
but the rest of the company were wiser ; they had trusted 
Baedeker, and waited ; consequently some of them got their 
seats for one or two dollars. Baedeker knows all about hotels, 
railway and diligence companies, and speaks his mind freely. 
He is a trustworthy friend of the traveler. 

"We never saw Mont Blanc at his best until we were many 
miles away ; then he lifted his majestic proportions high 
into the heavens, all white and cold and solemn, and made 
the rest of the world seem little and plebeian, and cheap 
and trivial. 

As he passed out of sight at last, an old Englishman settled 
himself in his seat and said, — 

" Well, I am satisfied, I have seen the principal features of 
Swiss scenery — Mont Blanc and the goitre — now for home ! " 




1 ^t" 



CHAPTER XLVII. 

WE spent a few pleasant restful days at Geneva, that 
delightful city where accurate time-pieces are made 
for all the rest of the world, but whose own clocks never 
give the correct time of day by any accident. 

Geneva is filled with pretty little shops, and the shops are 
filled with the most enticing gimcrackery, but if one enters 
one of these places he is at once pounced upon, and followed 
up, and so persecuted to buy this, that, and the other thing, 
that he is very grateful to get out again, and is not at all apt 
to repeat his experiment. The shopkeepers of the smaller 
sort, in Geneva, are as troublesome and persistent as are the 
salesmen of that monster hive in Paris, the Grands Magasins 
du Louvre — an establishment where ill-mannered pestering, 
pursuing and insistance have been reduced to a science. 

In Geneva, prices in the smaller shops are very elastic — 
that is another bad feature. I was looking in at a window 
at a very pretty string of beads, suitable for a child. I was 
only admiring them ; I had no use for them ; I hardly ever 
wear beads. The sliopwoman came out and offered them to 
me for 35 francs. I said it was cheap, but I did not need 
them. 

"Ah, but monsieur, they are so beautiful ! " 

I confessed it, but said they were not suitable for one of 
my age and simplicity of character. She darted in and 

541 



542 



PEESISTENCY OF SHOP-WOxMEN 



brought thein out and tried to force tliem into my hands, 
saying,— 

'• Ah, but only see how lovely they are 1 Surely monsieur 
will take them ; monsieur shall have them for 30 francs. 
There, I have said it — it is a loss, but one must live." 

I dropped my hands, and tried to move her to respect my 
unprotected situation. But no, she dangled the beads in the 
sun before my face, exclaiming, " Ah, monsieur cannot resist 
them!" She hung them on my coat button, folded her 
hands resignedly, and said, "Gone, — and for 30 francs, the 
lovely things — it is incredible !— but the good God will 
sanctify the sacrifice to me." 

I removed them gently, returned them, and walked away, 




HIGH PRESSURE. 



Shaking my head and smiling a smile of silly embarrassment 
while the passers-by halted to observe. The woman leaned 
out of her door, shook the beads, and screamed after me, — 
«' Monsieur shall have them for 28 !" 



SIGHTS OP GENEVA. 543 

I shook my head. 

•■' Twenty-seven ! It is a cruel loss, it is ruin — but take 
inem, only take them." 

I still retreated, still wagging mj head. 

"Hon Dieu, they shall even go for 26 ! There, I have said 
it. Come ! " 

I wagged another negative. A nurse and a little English 
girl had been near me, and were following me, now. The 
shopwoman ran to the nurse, thrust the beads into her hands, 
and said, — 

" Monsieur shall have them for 25 ! Take them to the 
hotel — he shall send me the money to-morrow — next day — 
when he likes." Then to the child: "When thy father 
sends me the money, come thou also, my angel, and thou 
shalt have something oh so pretty ! " 

. I was thus providentially saved. The nurse refused the 
"beads squarely and firmly, and that ended the matter. 

The "sights" of Geneva are not numerous. I made one 
attempt to hunt up the houses once inhabited by those two 
disagreeable people, Rousseau and Calvin, but had no success. 
Then I concluded to go home. I found it was easier to pro- 
pose to do that than to do it ; for that town is a bewildering 
place. I got lost in a tangle of narrow and crooked streets, 
and stafd lost for an hour or two. Finally I found a street 
which l<>oked somewhat familiar, and said to myself, "Now 
I am a<" home, I judge." But I was wrong; this was ^''Hell 
street." Presently I found another place which had a famil- 
iar look, and said to myself, " Now I am at home, sure." It 
was another error. This was ^'■Purgatory street." After a 

little I said, " How I've got to the right place, anyway 

no, this is '■Paradise street;' I'm further from home than I 
was in the beginning." Those were queer names— Calvin -was 
the author of them, likely. " Hell " and " Purgatory " fitted 
those two streets like a glove, but the "Paradise" appeared 
to be sarcastic. 

I Ci me out on the lake front, at last, and then I knew where 



544 



A CURIOUS PERFORMANCE. 



I was. I was walking along before the glittering jewelry 
shops when I saw a curious performance. A lady passed by, 
and a trim dandy lounged across the walk in such an appar- 
ently carefully 



to bring himself 
of her when she got 
made no offer to 
way; he did not 
did not even notice 
to stop still and let 





timed way as 
exactly in front 
to him; he 
step out of the 
apologize ; he 
her. She had 
him lounge by. 
I wondered if 
he had done 
that piece of 
brutality pur- 
No APOLOGY. p o s e 1 y. He 

strolled to a chair and seated him- 
self at a small table ; two or three 
other males were sitting at similar 
,'| tables siyping sweetened water. I 
' waited ; presently a j^outh came by, 
and this fellow got up and served 
NONE ASKED. him tlio game trick. Still, it did not 

seem possible that any one could do such a thing deliberate- 
ly. To satisfy my curiosity 1 went around the block, and 
sure enough, as I approached, at agood round speed, he got 
up and lounged lazily across my path, fouling my course 
exactly at the right moment to receive all my weiujht. This 
proved that his previous performances had not been accident- 
al, but intentional. 

I saw that dandy's curious game played afterwards, in Paris, 
but not for amusement ; not with a motive of any sort, in- 
deed, but simply from a selfish indifference to other people's 
comfort and rights. One does not see it as frequently in 
Paris as he might expect to, for there the law says, in effect, 
■' it is the business of the weak to get out of the way of the 
stronff." We fine a cabman if he runs over a citizen ; Paris 



AMERICAN GALLANTRY. 645 

fines the citizen for being run over. At least so everybody 
says — but I saw something which caused me to doubt; I saw 
a horseman run over an old woman one day, — the police ar- 
rested him and took him away. That looked as if they meant 
to punish him. 

It will not do for me to find merit in American manners 
— for are they not the standing butt for the jests of critical 
and polished Europe ? Still 1 must venture to claim one 
little matter of superiority in our manners : a lady may trav- 
erse our streets all day, going and coming as she chooses, and 
she will never be molested by any man ; but if a lady, unat- 
tended, walks abroad in the streets of London, even at noon- 
day, she will be pretty likely to be accosted and insulted-— 
and not by drunken sailors, but by men who carry the look 
a,nd wear the dress of gentlemen. It is maintained that these 
people are not gentlemen, but are a lower sort, disguised as 
gentlemen. The case of Colonel Yalentine Baker obstructs 
that argument, for a man cannot become an officer in the 
British army except he hold the rank of gentleman. This 
person, finding himself alone in a railway compartment with 
an unprotected girl, — but it is an atrocious story, and doubt- 
less the reader remembers it well enough. London must have 
been more or less accustomed to Bakers, and the ways of Ba- 
kers, else London would have been offended, and excited. 
Baker was " imprisoned "—in a parlor; and he could not have 
been more visited, or more overwhelmed with attentions, if 
he had committed six murders and tlien — while the gallows 
was preparing — "got religion" — after the manner of the holy 
Charles Peace, of saintly memory. Arkansaw — it seems a lit- 
tle indelicate to be trumpeting forth our own superiorities, 
and comparisons are always odious, but still — Arkansaw 
would certainly have hanged Baker. I do not say she would 
have tried him first, but she would have hanged him, anyway. 

Even the most degraded woman can walk our streets un- 
raolegted, her sex and her weakness being her sufficient pro- 
tection. She will encounter less polish than she would in 



546 



AT CHAMBERY. 



the old world, but she will run across enough humanity to 
make up for it. 

The music of a donkey awoke us early in the morning, and 
we rose up and made ready for a pretty formidable M'alk — 
to Italy ; but the road was so level that we took the train. 
We lost a good deal of time by this, but it was no matter, we 
were not in a hurry. We were four hours going to Cham- 
bery. The Swiss trains go upwards of three miles an hour, 

\c^,: O /^iii, in places, but they 

are quite safe. 

Thataged 
French town of 
Chambery was as 
quaint and crook- 
ed as Heilbronn. 
A drowsy repose- 
ful quiet reigned 
in the back streets 
which made 
strolling through 
them very pleas- 
ant, barring the 
ahnost unbeara- 
ble heat of the 
sun. In one of 
these streets 
which was eight 
feet wide, grace- 
A LIVELY STKLET. fully curvcd, and 

built up with small antiquated houses, I saw three fat hogs 
lying asleep, and a boy (also asleep), taking care of them. 
From queer old-fashioned windows along the curve, pro- 
jected boxes of bright flowers, and over the edge of one of 
these boxes hung the head and shoulders of a cat — asleep. 
The five sleeping creatures were the only living things visible 
in that street. There was not a sound ; absolute stillness 




A RAILROAD INCIDENT. 



547 



prevailed. It was Sunday ; one is not used to such dreamy 
Sundays on the Continent. In our part of the town it 
was different that night. A regiment of brown and battered 
soldiers had arrived home from Algiers, and I judged they 
got thirsty on the way. They sang and drank till dawn, in 
the pleasant open air. 

We left for Turin at 10 the next morning by a railway 




HAVING HER FULL RIGHTS. 



which was profusely decorated with tunnels. We forgot to 
take a lantern along, consequently we missed all the scenery. 
Our compartment was full. A ponderous tow-headed Swiss 
woman who put on many fine-lady airs, but was evidently 
more used to washing linen than wearing it, sat in a corner 
seat and put her legs across into the opposite one, propping 
them intermediately with her up-ended valise. In the seat 
thus pirated, sat two Americans, greatly incommoded by that 
woman's majestic coffin-clad feet. One of them begged her, 



548 ^N INSULTED WOMAN. 

politely, to remove them. She opened her wide eyes and 
gave him a stare, but ansMered nothing. By and by he pre- 
ferred his request again, with great respectfulness. She said, 
in good English, and in a deeply offended tone, that she had 
paid her passage and was not going to be bullied out of her 
"rights" by ill-bred foreigners, even if she was alone and 
unprotected. 

" But I have rights, also, madam. My ticket entitles me 
to a seat, but you are occupying half of it." 

"1 will not talk with you, sir. What right have you to 
speak to me? I do not know you. One would know you 
came from a land where there are no gentlemen. No gentle- 
man would treat a lady as you have treated me." 

" I come from a region where a lady would hardly give 
me the same provocation." 

" You have insulted me, sir ! You have intimated that I 
am not a lady — and I hope I am not one, after the pattern of 
your country." 

'*I beg that you will give ^^ourself no alarm on that head, 
madam ; but at the same time I must insist — always respect- 
fully — that you let me have my seat." 

Here the fragile laundress burst into tears and sobs. 

"I never was so insulted before! Never, never! It is 
shameful, it is brutal, it is base, to bully and abuse an unpro- 
tected lady who has lost the use of her limbs and cannot put 
her feet to the floor without agony ! " 

" Good heavens, madam, why didn't you say that at first! 
I offer a thousand pardons. And I offer them most sincerely. 
r did not know — I could not kiiow — that anything was the 
matter. You are most welcome to the seat, and would have 
been from the first if I had only known. I am truly sorry 
it all happened, I do assure you." 

But he couldn't get a word of forgiveness out of her. She 
simply sobbed and snuffled in a subdued but wholly unap- 
peasable way for two long hours, meantime crowding the man 
more than ever w^itli her undertaker-furniture and paying no 



TURIN. 



549 



sort of attention to his frequent and humble little efforts to 
do something for her comfort. Then the train halted at the 
Italian line and she hopped up and marched out of the car 
with as firm a leg as any 



washerwoman of all her 
tribe ! And how sick I 
was, to see how she had 
fooled me. 

Turin is a very fine city. 
In the matter of roominess 
it transcends anything that 
was ever dreamed of before, 
I fancy. It sits in the midst 
of a vast dead-level, and one 
is obliged to imagine that 
land may be had for the 
asking, and no taxes to pay, 
so lavishly do they use it. 
The streets are extrava- 
gantly wide, the paved 
squares are prodigious, the 
houses are huge and hand- how she fooled us. 

some, and compacted into uniform blocks that stretch away 
as straight as an arrow, into the distance. The sidewalks are 
about as wide as ordinary European streets, and are covered 
over with a double arcade supported on great stone piers or 
columns. One walks from one end to the other of these spa- 
cious streets, under shelter all the time, and all his course is 
lined with the prettiest- of shops and the most inviting din- 
ing-houses. 

There is a wide and lengthy court, glittering with the most 
wickedly-enticing shops, which is roofed with glass, high aloft 
over head, and paved with soft-toned marbles laid in grace- 
ful figures; and at night when this place is brilliant with gas 
and populous with a sauntering and chatting and laughing 
multitude of pleasure-seekers, it is a spectacle worth seeing. 




550 A REPORT ABOUT ITALY. 

Everything is on a large scale; the public buildings, for 
instance — and they are architecturally imposing, too, as well 
as large. The big squares have big bronze monuments in 
them. At the hotel they gave us rooms that were alarming, 
for size, and a parlor to match. It was well the w^eather re- 
quired no fire in the parlor, for 1 think one might as well 
have tried to warm a park. The place would have a warm 
look, though, in any weather, for the window curtains were 
ot red silk damask, and the walls were covered with the same 
fire-hued goods — so, also, were the four sofas and the brigade 
of chairs. The furniture, the ornaments, the chandeliers, the 
carpets, were all new and bright and costly. "We did not need 
a parlor, at all, but they said it belonged to the two bedrooms 
and we might use it if we cnos'^- Since it was to cost noth- 
ing, we were not averse from using it, ot course. 

Turin must suiely read a good deal, for it has more book 
stores to the square rod than any other town I know of. And 
it has its own share of military folk. The Italian oflBcers' 
uniforms are very much the most beautiful 1 have ever seen ; 
and as a general thing the men in them M^ere as handsome 
as the clothes. Tliey were not large men, but they had fine 
forms, fine features, rich olive complexions and lustrous black 
eyes. 

For several weeks I had been culling all the information I 
» could about Italy, from tourists. The tourists were all agreed 
upon one thing — one must expect to be cheated at every turn 
by the Italians. I took an evening walk in Turin, and pres- 
ently came across a little Punch and Judy show in one of the 
great squares. Twelve or fifteen people constituted the au- 
dience. Tins minature theatre was not much bigger than a 
man's coffin stood on end ; the upper part was open and dis- 
played a tinseled parlor — a good-sized handkerchief would 
have answered for a drop-curtain ; the footli2:hts consisted of 
a couple of candle-ends an inch long; various manikins the 
size of dolls appeared on the stage and made long speeches 
at each other, gesticulating a good deal, and they generally 



AN EVENING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 651 

had a fight before thej got through. Thej were worked by 
strings from above, and the illusion was not perfect, for one 
saw not only the strings but the brawny hand that manipu- 
lated them — and the actors and actresses all talked in the 
same voice, too. The audience stood in front of the theatre, 
and seemed to enjoy the performance heartily. 

When the play was done, a youth in his shirt-sleeves start- 
ed around with a small copper saucer to make a collection. 
1 did not know how much to put in, but thought I M'ould be 
guided by my predecessors. Unluckily I only had two of 
these and they did not help me much because they did not 
put in anything. I had no Italian money, so I put in a small 
Swiss coin worth about ten cents. The youth finished his 
collection-trip and emptied the result on the stage ; he had 
some verj' animated talk with the concealed manager, then he 
came working his way through the little crowd — seeking 
me, I thought. I had a mind to slip away, but concluded I 
wouldn't; I would stand my ground, and confront the 
villainy, whatever it was. The youth stood before me and 
held up that Swiss coin, sure enough, and said something. I 
did not understand him, but I judged he was requiring Ital- 
ian money of me. The crowd gathered close, to listen. I 
was irritated, and said. — in English, of course, — 

" I know it's Swiss, but you'll take that or none. I haven't 
any other." 

He tried to put the coin in ray hand, and spoke again. I 
drew my hand away, and said, — 

" JV(9, sir. I know all about you people. You can't play 
any of your fraud ful tricks on me. If there is a discount on 
that coin, T am sorry, but I am not going to make it good. 
I noticed that some of the audience didn't pay you any- 
thing at all. You let them go, without a word, but you 
come after me because you think I'm a stranger and will 
put up with an extortion rather than have a scene. But 
you are mistaken this time — you'll take that Swiss money oi 
none." 



552 



AN UNWORTHY BLUNDER. 



The yoitt'li stood there with the coin in his fingers non- 
plussed, and bewildered ; of course he had not understood 
a word. An English-speaking Italian spoke up, now, and 
said, — 

" You are misunderstanding the boy. He does not mean 
any harm. He did not suppose you gave him so much money 
purposely, so he hurried back to return you the coin lest 
you might get away before you discovered your mistake. 




"you'll take that or none." 

Take it, and give him a penny — that will make everything 
smooth again." 

I probably blushed, then, for there was occasion. Through 
the interpreter I begged the boy's pardon, but I nobly refused 
to take back the ten cents. I said I was accustomed to 
squandering large sums in that way — it was the kind of per- 
son I was. Then I retired to make a note to the effect that 
in Italy, persons connected with the drama do not cheat. 



ROBBINa A BEGGAR. 553 

The episode with the showman reminds me of a dark chap- 
ter in my history. I once robbed an aged and blind beggar-wo- 
man of four dollars — in a church. It happened in this way. 
When I was out with the Innocents Abroad, the ship stopped 
in the Russian port of Odessa, and I went ashore, with others, 
to v^iew the town. I got separated from the rest, and wan- 
dered about, alone, until late in the afternoon, when I en- 
tered a Greek church to see what it was like. When I was 
ready to leave, I observed two wrinkled old women standing 
stiffly upright against the inner w'all, near the door, with 
their brown palms open to receive alms. I contributed to 
the nearer one, and jjassed out. I had gone fifty yards, per- 
haps, when it occurred to me that I must remain ashore all 
night, as I had heard that the ship's business would carry her 
away at 4: o'clock and keep her away until morning. It was 
a little after 4, now. I had come ashore with only two pieces 
of money, both about the same size, but differing largely in 
value — one was a French gold piece worth four dollars, the 
other a Turkish coin worth two cents and a half. With a 
sudden and horrified misgiving, I put my hand in my pocket, 
now, and, sure enough, I fetched out that Turkish penny ! 
> Here was a situation. A hotel would require pay in ad- 
vance — I must walk the streets all night, and perhaps be ar- 
rested as a suspicious character. There was but one way out 
of the difficulty — I flew back to the church, and softly enter- 
ed. There stood the old woman yet, and in the palm of the 
nearest one still lay my gold piece. I was grateful. I crept 
close, feeling unspeakably mean ; I got my Turkish penn}' 
ready, and was extending a trembling hand to make the ne- 
farious exchange, when I heard a cough behind me. I jump- 
ed back as if I had been accused, and stood quaking while a 
worshiper entered and passed up the aisle. 

I was there a year trying to steal that money ; that is, it 

seemed a year, though of course it must have been much less. 

The worshipers went and came ; there were hardly ever three 

in the church at once, but there was always one or more. 

32 



55J: 



A LEStiON LEARNED. 



Every time I tried to commit my crime someboay came in 
or somebody started out, and I was prevented; but at last 
my opportunity came; for one moment there was nobody in 
the cliurch but the two beggar-women and me. I whipped 
the gold piece out of the poor old pauper's palm and drop- 
ped my Tarkisli penny in its place. Poor old thing, she mur- 
mured her thanks— they smote me to the heart. Then 1 
sped away in a guilty hurry, and even when I was a mile 
from the church I was still glancing back, every moment, to 
see if I was being pursued. 

That experience has been of priceless value and benefit to 
me ; for I resolved then, that as long as I lived 1 would never 
again rob a blind beggar-woman in a church ; and I have al- 
ways kept my word. The most permanent lessons in morals 
are those which come, not of booky teaching, but of experi- 
ence. 




CHAPTER XLVni. 

I]Sr Milan we spent most of our time in the vast and beau- 
tiful Arcade or Gallery, or whatever it is called. Blocks of 
tall new buildings of the most sumptuous sort, rich with 
decoration and graced with statues, the streets between 
these blocks roofed over with glass at a great height, the 
pavements all of smooth and variegated marble, arranged 
in tasteful patterns — little tables all over these marble 
streets, people sitting at them, eating, drinking, or smok- 
ing — crowds of other people strolling by — such is the Arcade. 
I should like to live in it all the time. The windows of the 
sumptuous restaurants stand open, and one breakfasts there 
and enjoys the passing show. 

"VYe wandered all over the town, enjoying whatever was 
going on in the streets. We took one omnibus ride, and as 
I did not speak Italian and could not ask the price, 1 held 
out some copper coins to the conductor, and he took two. 
Then he went and got his tariff-card and showed me that he 
had taken only the right sum. So I made a note — Italian 
omnibus conductors do not cheat. 

[Near the Cathedral I saw another instance of probity. 
An old man was peddling dolls and toy fans. Two small 
American children bought fans, and one gave the old man a 
franc and three copper coins, and both started away; but 
they were called back, and the franc and one of the coppers 

555 



556 



THINGS WE SAW IN MILAN. 




were restored to tliem. Hence it is plain that in Italy, par- 
ties connected with the drama and with the omnibus and 

to J interests do a^t 
cheat. 

The stocks of 
goods in the shops 
were not extensive, 
generally. In the 
vestibule of what 
seemed to be a cloth- 
ing store, we saw 
eight or ten wooden 
dummies grouped to- 
DisHONEST ITALY. gcthcr, clothed in 

woolen business-suits and each suit marked with its price. 
One suit was marked 45 francs — nine dollars. Harris step- 
ped in and said he wanted a suit like that. Nothing easier : 

the old merchant dragged in 
the dummy, brushed him off 
with a broom, stripped him, 
and shipped the clothes to 
the hotel. He said he did 
not keep two suits of the 
same kind in stock, but man- 
ufactured a second when it 
was needed to re-clothe the 
dummy. 

In another quarter we 
found six Italians engaged 
in a violent quarrel. They 
danced fiercely about, ges- 
ticulating with their heads, 
their arms, their legs, their 
whole bodies ; they would 
STOCK IN TRADE. rusli forward occasionally 

in a sudden access of passion and shake their fists in each 




ANOTHER FRAUD ON US. 557 

other's very faces. We lost half an hour there, waiting to 
help cord up the dead, but th ' finally embraced each other 
affectionately, and the trouble was all over. The episode 
was interesting, but we could not have afforded all that time 
to it if we had known nothing was going to come of it but 
a reconciliation. JSTote made — in Italy, people who quarrel 
cheat the spectator. 

We had another disappointment, afterM^ard. We ap- 
proached a deeply interested crowd, and in the midst of it 
found a fellow wildly chattering and gesticulating over a 
box on the ground which was covered with a piece of old 
blanket. Every little while he would bend down and take 
hold of the edge of the blanket with the extreme tips of his 
fingers, as if to show there was no deception — chattering 
away all the while, — but always, just as I was expecting to 
see a wonderful feat of legerdemain, he would let go the 
blanket and rise to explain further. However, at last he 
uncovered the box and got out a spoon with a liquid in it, 
and held it fair and frankly around, for people to see that it 
was all right and he was taking no advantage— his chatter 
became more excited than ever. I supposed he was going 
to set fire to the liquid and swallow it, so I was greatly 
wrought up and interested. I got a cent ready in one hand 
and a florin in the other, intending to give him the former 
if he survived and the latter if he killed himself — for his 
loss would be my gain in a literary way, and I was willing 
to pay a fair price for the item — but this impostor ended his 
intensely moving performance by simph^ adding some 
powder to the liquid and polishing the spoon ! Then 
he held it aloft, and he could not have shown a wilder exul- 
tation if he had achieved an immortal miracle. The croM'd 
applauded in a gratified way, and it seemed to me that his- 
tory speaks the truth when it says these children of the 
fouth are easily entertained. 

We spent an impressive hour in the noble cathedral, where 
long shafts of tinted light were cleaving through the solemn 



558 



STYLE IN CHURCH. 



dimness from the lofty windows and falling on a pillar here, 
a picture there, and a kneeling worshiper yonder. The 
organ was muttering, censers were swinging, candles were 
glinting on the distant altar, and robed priests were filing 
silently past them ; the scene was one to sweep all frivolous 
thoughts away and steep the soul in a holy calm. A trim 

young American lady paused 
a yard or two from me, lixed 
her eyes ontheniellow sparks 
flecking the far-off altar, bent 
her head reverently a moment, 
then straightened up, kicked 
her train into the air with her 
heel, caught it deftly in her 
hand, and marched briskly 
out. 

We visited the picture gal- 
leries and the other regula- 
tion "sights" of Milan — not 
because I wanted to write 
about them again, but to see 
if 1 had learned anything in 
twelve years. I afterwards 
visited the great galleries of 
Rome and Florence for the 
same purpose. I found I had 
learned one things When I 
wrote about the Old Masters 
STYLE. before, I said the copies were 

better than the originals. That was a mistake oi iarge di- 
mensions. The Old Masters were still unpleasing to me, 
but they were truly divine contrasted with the copieSo The 
copy is to the original as the pallid, smart, inane new wax 
work-group is to the vigorous, earnest, dignified group of 
living men and women whom it professes to duplicate. Thero 
is a mellow richness, a subdued color, in the old pictures, 




AGE VS SKILL. 



559 



which is to the eye what muffled and mellowed sound is to 
the ear. That is the merit which is raobt loudly praised in 
the old picture, and is the one which the copy niost con- 
spicuously lacks, and which the copyist must not hope to 
compass. It was genei'ally conceded by the artists with 
whom I talked, that that subdued splendor, that mellow 
richness, is imparted to the picture by age. Then why 
should we worship the Old Master for it, who didn't im- 
part it, instead of worshiping Old Time, who did? Perhaps 
the picture was a clanging bell, until Time muffled it and 
sweetened it. 

In conversation with an artist in Yenice, I asked, — 
"What is it that people see in the Old Masters? I have 
been in the Doges' Palace and I saw several acres of very 
bad drawing, very bad perspective, and very incorrect pro- 
portions. Paul Yeronese's dogs do not resemble dogs ; all 




SPECIMENS FKOM OLD MASTERS. 



the horses look like bladders on legs; one man had Si right 
leg on the left side of his body ; in the large picture where 
the Emperor (Barbarossa ? ) is prostrate before the Pope, 
there are three men in the foreground who are over thirty 
feet high, if one may judge by the size of a kneeling little 
boy in the centre of the foreground ; and according to the 
same scale, the Pope is 7 feet high and the Doge is a shriv- 
eled dwarf of 4 feet." 



560 B^I> REASOJSING. 

The artist said,— 

" Yes, the Old Masters often drew badly ; they did not 
care much for truth and exactness in minor details; but 
after all, in spite of bad drawing, bad perspective, bad pro- 
portions, and a choice of subjects which no longer appeal to 
people as strongly as they did three hundred yeai-s ago, 
there is a something about their pictures which is divine — a 
something which is above and beyond the art of any epoch 
since — a something which would be the deppair of artists but 
that they never hope or expect to attain it, and therefore do 
not worry about it." 

That is what lie said — and he said what he believed ; and 
not only believed, but felt. 

Reasoning, — especially reasoning without technical knowl- 
edge, — must be put aside, in cases of this kind. It cannot 
assist the inquirer. It will lead him, in the most logical 
progression, to what, in the eyes of artists, would be a most 
illogical conclusion. Thus : bad drawing, bad proportion, l)ad 
perspective, indifference to truthful detail, color which gets its 
merit from time, and not from the artist — these things consti- 
tute the Old Master ; conclusion, the Old Master was a bad 
painter, the Old Master was not an Old Master at all, but an 
Old Apprentice. Your friend the artist will grant your 
premises, but deny your conclusion; he will maintain that 
notwithstanding this formidable list of confessed defects, 
there is still a something that is divine and unapproachable 
about the Old Master, and that there is no arguing the fact 
away by any system of reasoning whatever. 

I can believe that. There are women who have an inde- 
finable charm in their faces wliich makes them beautiful to 
their intimates; but a cold stranger who tried to reason the 
matter out and find this beauty would fail. He would say 
of one of these women : This chin is too short, this nose is 
too long, this forehead is too high, this hair is too red, this 
complexion is too pallid, the perspective of the entire com- 
position is incorrect ; conclusion, the woman is not beautiful. 



TINTORETTO'S GREAT PICTURE. 



581 



But her nearest friend might say, and say truly, " Your 
premises are right, your logic is faultless, but your conclusion 
is wronff. nevertheless : she is an Old Master — she ie beau- 




AN OLD MASTER. 



tif ul, but only to such as know her ; it is a beauty which can- 
not be formulated, but it is there, just the same." 

I found more pleasure in contemplating the Old Masters 
this time than I did when I was in Europe in former years, 
but still it was a cilm pleasure ; there was nothing over-heat- 
ed about it. When I was in Venice before, I thint I found 
no picture which stirred me much, but this time there were 
two which enticed me to the Doge's palace day after day, 
and kept me there hours at a time. One of these was Tintor- 
etto's three-acre picture in the G-reat Council Chamber. 
Wiien I saw it twelve years ago I was not strongly attracted 
to it — the guide told me it was an insurrection in heaven — 
but this was an error. 

The movement of this great work is very fine. There are 
ten thousand figures, and they are all doing something. 
There is a wonderful " go " to the whole composition. Some 



562 



WONDERFUL EFFECT OF PICTURE-SEEING. 



of the figures are diving headlong downward, with clasped 
hands, others are swimming through the cloud-shoals, — some 
on their faces, some on their backs — great processions of bish- 
ops, martyrs and angels are pouring swiftly centerwards from 
various outlying directions — everywhere is enthusiastic joy, 
there is rushing movement everywhere. There are fifteen 
or twenty figures scattered here and there, with boohs, but 
they cannot keep their attention on their ]-eading — they ofier 

the books to others, but no one wishes 
to read, now. The Lion of St. 
Mark is there with his book ; St. 
Mark is there with his pen uplifted ; 
he and the Lion are looking each 
other earnestly in the face, disputing 
about the way to spell a word — the 
Lion looks up in wrapt admiration 
while St. Mark spells. This is 
wonderfully interpreted by the artist. 
It is the master-stroke of this incom- 
parable painting. 

I visited the place daily, and never 
grew tired of looking at that grand 
picture. As I have intimated, the 
movement is almost unimaginably 
THE LION OP ST. MARK, vigorous ; the figures are singing, ho- 
sannahing, and many are blowing trumpets. So vividly is 
noise suggested, that spectators who become absorbed in the 
picture almost always fall to shouting comments in each 
other's ears, making ear-trumpets of their curved hands, 
fearing they may not otherwise be heard. One often sees a 
tourist, with the eloquent tears pouring down his cheeks, 
funnel his hands at his wife's ear, and hears him roar through 
them, "O, TO BE THEEE AND AT BEST !" 

None but the supremely great in art can produce effects 
2ike these with the silent brush. 

Twelve years ago I could not have appreciated this picture. 




BASSANO'S GREAT PICTURE. 



563 



One year ago I could not have appreciated it. My study of 
Art in Heidelberg has been a noble education to me. AIJ 
that I am to-day iu 



Art, I 
owe to that. 

The other great work which 
fascinated rae was Bassano's 
immortal Hair Trunk. Tliis 
is in the Chamber of the Coun- 
cil of Ten. It is in one of the 
three forty-foot pictures which 
decorate the walls of the room. 
The composition of this pict- 
ure is beyond praise. The 
Hair Trunk is not hurled at 
the stranger's head, — so to 
speak — as the chief feature of 
an immortal work so often is ; 
no, it is carefully guarded 
from prominence, it is subor- 
dinated, it is restrained, it is 
most deftly and cleverly held 
in reserve, itis most cautiously 
aad ingeniously led up to, by 
the master, and consequently when the, spectator reaches it 
at last, he is taken unawares, he is unprepared, and it bursts 
upon him with a stupefying surprise. 

One is lost in wonder at all the thought and care which 
this elaborate planning must have cost. A general glance 
at the picture could never suggest that there was a hair trunk 
in it; the Hair Trunk is not mentioned in the title even, — 
which is, " Pope Alexander III and the Doge Ziani, the Con- 
queror of the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa ; " you see, the 
title is actually utilized to help divert attention from the 
Trunk ; thus, as I say, nothing suggests the presence of the 
Trunk, by any hint, yet everything studiedly leads up to it, 
step by step. Let us examine into this, and observe the ex- 
quisitely artful artlessness of the plan. 




OH, TO BE AT REST. 



564 THE PICTURE DESCRIBED. 

At the extreme left end of the picture are a couple of 
women, one of them with a child looking over her shoulder 
at a wounded man sitting with bandaged head on the ground. 
These people seem needless, but no, thej are there for a pur- 
pose ; one cannot look at them without seeing the gorgeous 
procession of grandees, bishops, halberdiers, and banner-bear- 
ers which is passing along behind them ; one cannot see the 
procession without feeling a curiosity to follow it and learn 
whither it is going; it leads him to the Pope, in the center 
of the picture, who is talking with the bonnetless Doge- 
talking tranquilly, too, although within 12 feet of them a 
man is beating a drum, and not far from the drummer two 
persons are blowing horns, and many horsemen are plunging 
and rioting about — indeed, 22 feet of this great work is all a 
deep and happy holiday serenity and Sunday School proces- 
sion, and then we come suddenly upon 11|- feet of turmoil 
and racket and insubordination. This latter state of things 
is not an accident, it has its purpose. But for it, one would 
linger upon the Pope and the Doge, thinking them t be the 
motive and supreme feature of the picture ; whei'eas one is 
drawn along, almost unconsciously, to see what the trouble 
is about, Now at the very end of this riot, within 4 feet of 
the end of the picture, and full 36 feet from the beginning 
of it, the Hair Trunk bursts with an electrifying suddenness 
upon tlie spectator, in all its matchless perfection, and the 
great master's triumph is sweeping and complete. From that 
moment no other thing in those forty feet of canvas has any 
charm ; one sees the Hair Trunk, and the Hair Trunk only 
— and to see it is to worship it. Bassano even placed objects 
in the immediate vicinity of the Supreme Feature whose 
pretended purpose was to divert attention from it yet a little 
longer and thus delay and augment the surprise ; for instance, 
to the right of it he has placed a stooping man with a cap so 
red that it is sure to hold the eye for a moment — to the left 
of it, some 6 feet away, he has placed a red-coated man on 
an inflated horse, and that coat plucks your eye to that locality 



( 



THE FAMOUS HAIR TRUNK. 



565 



the next moment — then, between the Trunk and the red horse- 
man he has intruded a man, naked to his waist, who is carry- 
ing a fancy flour sack on the middle of his back instead of on 
his shoulder — this admirable feat interests you, of course — 
keeps you at bay a little longer, like a sock or a jacket thrown 
to the pursuing wolf — but at last, in spite of all distractions 
and detentions, the eye of even the most dull and heedless 
spectator is sure to fall upon the World's Masterpiece, and 
in that moment he totters to his chair or leans upon his guide 
for support. 

Descriptions of such a work as this must necessarily be im- 
perfect, yet they are of value. The top of the Trunk is arch- 
ed ; the arch is a perfect half circle, in the Roman style of 
architecture, for in the then rapid decadence of Greek art, 
the rising influence of Rome was already beginning to be felt 




THE world's MASTERPIECB. 

in the art of the Republic. The Trunk is bound or bordered 
with leather all around where the lid joins the main body. 
Many critics consider this leather too cold in tone ; but I 
consider this its highest merit, since it was evidently made 
so to emphasize by contrast the impassioned fervor of the 
hasp. The high lights in this part of the work are cleverly 
managed, the motif is admirably subordinated to the ground 
tints, and the technique is very fine. The brass nail-heads are 
in the purest style of the early renaissance. The strokes, 
here, are very firm and bold — every nail-head is a portrait. 
The handle on the end of the Trunk has evidently been re- 
touched — I think, Mnth apiece of clialk — but one can still see 
the inspiration of the Old Master in the tranquil, almost too 
tranquil, hang of it. The hair of this Trunk is real hair-^ 



566 



POWER OP TRUE ART. 



SO to speak — white in patches, brown in patches. The de- 
tails are linelj worked out ; the repose proper to hair in a 
recumbent and inactive attitude is charmingly expressed. 
There is a feeling about this part of the work w^hich lifts it 
to the highest altitudes of art ; the sense of sordid realism 
vanishes away — one recognizes that there is soul here. View 
this Trunk as yon will, it is a gem, it is a marvel, it is a mira- 
cle. Some of the effects are very daring, approaching even 
to the boldest flights of the rococo, the sirocco, and the By- 
zantine schools — yet the master's hand never falters — it 
moves on, calm, majestic, confident, — and with that art which 
conceals art, it finally casts over the tout ensemhle, by mys- 
terious methods of its own, a subtle something which refines, 
subdnes, etherealizes the arid components and endues them 
with the deep charm and gracious witchery of poesy. 

Among the art treasures of Europe there are pictures which 
approach the Hair Trunk — there are two which may be said 
to equal it, possibly — but there is none that surpasses it. So 
perfect is the Hair Trunk that it moves even persons who or- 
dinarily have no feeling for art. When an Erie baggage- 
master saw it two years ago, he could hardly keep from check- 
ino- it ; and once when a customs inspector was brought into 
its presence, he gazed upon it in silent rapture for some mo- 
ments, then slowly and unconsciously placed one hand behind 
him with the palm uppermost, and got out his chalk with 
the other. These facts speak for themselves. 




CHAPTER XLIX. 

ONE lingers about the Cathedral a good deal, in Yenice. 
There is a strong fascination about it — partly because it 
is so old, and partly because it is so ngly. Too many of the 
world's famous buildings fail of one chief virtue — harmony ; 
they are made up of a raethodless mixture of the ugly and 
the beautiful ; this is bad ; it is confusing, it is unrestful. 
One has a sense of uneasiness, of distress, without knowing 
why. But one is calm before St. Mark, one is calm within 
it, one would be calm on top of it, calm in the cellar ; for its 
details are masterfully ugly, no misplaced and impertinent 
beauties are intruded anywhere; and the consequent result 
is a grand harmonious whole, of soothing, entrancing, tran- 
quilizing, soul-satisfying ugliness. One's admiration of a 
perfect thing always grows, never declines ; and this is the 
surest evidence to him that it is perfect. St. Mark is per- 
fect. To me it soon grew to be so nobly, so augustly ugly, 
that it was difficult to stay away from it, even for a little 
while. Every time its squat domes disappeared from my 
view, I had a despondent feeling ; whenever tliey reappeared, 
I felt an honest rapture — I have not known any happier 
hours than those I daily spent in front of Florian's, looking 
across tlie Great Square at it. Propped on its long row of 
low thick-legged columns, its back knobbed with domes, it 
seemed like a vast warty bug taking a meditative walk. 

567 



56g CATHEDRAL OF ST. MARK. 

St. Mark is not the oldest building in the world, of course, 
but it seems the oldest, and looks the oldest — especially 
inside. When the ancient mosaics in its walls become 
damaged, they are repaired but not altered ; the grotesque 
old pattern is preserved. Antiquity has a charm of its own, 
and to smarten it up would only damage it. One day I was 
sitting on a red marble bench in the vestibule looking up 
at an ancient piece of apprentice-work, in mosaic, illustra- 
tive of the command to " multiply and replenish the earth." 
The Cathedral itself had seemed very old ; but this picture 
was illustrating a period in history which made the building 
seem young by comparison. But I presently found an 
antique which was older than either the battered Cathedral 
or the date assigned to that piece of history ; it was a spiral- 
shaped fossil as large as the crown of a hat ; it was embedded 
in the marble bench, and had been sat upon by tourists until 
it was worn smooth. Contrasted with the inconceivable 
antiquity of this modest fossil, those other things were flip- 
pantly modern — ^jejune — mere matters of day-before-yester- 
day. The sense of the oldness of the Cathedral vanished 
away under the influence of this truly venerable presence. 

St. Mark's is monumental ; it is an imperishable remem- 
brancer of the profound and simple piety of the Middle 
Ages. Whoever could ravish a column from a pagan tem- 
ple, did it and contributed his swag to this Christian one. 
So this fane is upheld by several hundred acquisitions pro- 
cured in that peculiar way. In our dav it would be immoral 
to go on the highway to get bricks for a church, but it was 
no sin in the old times. St. Mark's was itself the victim of 
a curious robbery, once. The thing is set down in the his- 
tory of Yenice, but it miglit be smuggled into the Arabian 
Nights and not seem out of place there : 

Nearly four hundred and fifty years ago, a Candian named 
Staramato, in the suite of a prince of the house of Este, was 
allowed to view the riches of St. Mark. His sinful eye was 
dazzled and he hid himself behind an altar, with an evil 



A CHURCH ROBBER. 



569 



purpose in liis heart, but a priest discovered him and turned 
him out. Afterward he got in again — by false keys, this 
time. He went there, night after night, and worked hard 
and patiently, all alone, overcoming difficulty after diffi- 
culty with his toil, and at last succeeded in removing a great 
block of the marble paneling which walled the lower part of 
the treasury ; this block he lixed so that he could take it out 
and put it in at will. After that, for weeks, he spent all 
his midnights in his magnificent mine, inspecting it in secu- 
rity, gloating over its marvels at his leisure, and always slip- 
ping back to his obscure lodgings before dawn, with a duke's 
ransom under his cloak. He did not need to grab, hap- 
hazard, and run — there was no hurry. He could make delib- 
erate and well-considered selections ; he could consult his 
aesthetic tastes. One comprehends how undisturbed he was. 




ESTHETIC TASTES. 



and how safe from any danger of interruption, when it is 
stated that he even carried off a unicorn's horn — a mere curi- 
osity — which would not pass through the egress entire, but 
had to be sawn in two — a bit of work which cost him hours 
of tedious labor. He continued to store up his treasures 
33 



570 MURDER WILL OUT. 

at home until liis occupation lost the charm of novelt}' 
and became monotonous; then he ceased from it, contented. 
Well he might be ; for his collection, raised to modern valuesj 
represented nearly $50,000,000 ! 

He could have gone home much the richest citizen of his 
country, and it might have been years before the plunder 
was missed ; but he was human — he could not enjoy his 
delight alone, he must have somebody to talk about it with. 
So he exacted a solemn oath from a Candian noble 
named Crioni, then led him to his lodgings and nearly took 
his breath away with a sight of his glittering hoard. He 
detected a look in his friend's face which excited his suspi- 
cion, and was about to slip a stiletto into him when Crioni 
saved himself by explaining that that look was only an ex- 
pression of supreme and happy astonishment. Stammato 
made Crioni a present of one of the State's principal jew- 
els — a huge carbuncle, which afterward figured in the Ducal 
cap of state — and the pair parted. Crioni went at once to 
the palace, denounced the criminal, and handed over the car- 
buncle as evidence. Stammato was arrested, tried, and con- 
demned, with the old-time Venetian promptness. He was 
hanged between the two great columns in the Piazza — with a 
gilded rope, out of compliment to his love of gold, perhaps. 
He got no good of his booty at all — it was all recovered. 

In Venice we had a luxury which very seldom fell to our 
lot on the continent — a home dinner, with a private family. 
If one could always stop with private families, when travel- 
ing, Europe would have a charm which it now lacks. As it 
is, one must live in the hotels, of course, and that is a sor- 
rowful business. A man accustomed to American food and 
American domestic cookery would not starve to death sud- 
denly in Europe ; but I think he would gradually waste 
away, and eventually die. 

He would have to do without his accustomed morning 
meal. That is too formidable a change altogether ; he would 
necessarily suffer from it. He could get the shadow, the 



BREAKFASTING, 



671 



eham, Che base counterfeit of that meal ; but that would do 
him no good, and money could not buy the reality. 

To particularize: the average American's simplest and 
commonest form of breakfast consists of coffee and beef- 
steak ; well, in Europe, coffee is an unknown beverage. 
You can get what the European hotel keeper thinks is cof> 
fee, but it resembles the real thing as hypocrisy resembles 
holiness. It is a feeble, characterless, uninspiring sort of 
stuff, and almost as uudrinkable as if it had been made in 




A PRIVATE FAMILT BREAKFAST. 

an American hotel. The milk used for it is what the French 
call " Christian " milk, — milk which has been baptized. 

After a few months' acquaintance with European " coffee," 
one's mind weakens, and his faith with it, and he begins to 
wonder if the rich beverage of home, with its clotted layer of 
yellow cream on top of it is not a mere dream, after all, and 
a thing which never existed. 

Next comes the European bread, — fair enough, good 
enough, after a fashion, but cold ; cold and tough, and 
unsympathetic ; and never any change, never any variety, — 
always the same tiresome thing. 

!Next, the butter, — the sham and tasteless butter ; no salt 
in it, and made of goodness knows what. 



572 THE EUEOPEAN Ll^sNER. 

Tlien there is the beefsteak. Thej have it in Europe, but 
they don't know how to cook it. ^Neither will they cut it 
right. It comes on the table in a small, round, pewter plat- 
ter. It lies in the centre of this platter, in a bordering bed 
of grease-soaked potatoes ; it is the size, shape, and thick- 
ness of a man's hand with the thumb and fingers cut oiF. It 
is a little overdone, is rather dry, it tastes pretty insipidly, 
it rouses no enthusiasm. 

Imagine a poor exile contemplating that inert thing ; 
and imagine an angel suddenly sweeping down out of a bet- 
ter land and setting before him a mighty porter-house steak • 
an inch and a half thick, hot and sputtering from the grid- 
dle; dusted with fragrant pepper ; enriched with little melt- 
ing bits of butter of the most unimpeachable freshness and 
genuineness ; the precious juices of the meat trickling out and 
joining the gravy, archipelagoed with mushrooms ; a town- 
ship or two of tender, yellowish fat gracing an outlying 
district of this ample county of beefsteak ; the long white bone 
which divides the sirloin from the tenderloin still in its place ; 
and imagine that the angel also adds a great cup of Ameri- 
can home-made coffee, with the cream a-froth on top, some 
real butter, firm and yellow and fresh, some smoking hot 
biscuits, a plate of hot buckwheat cakes, with transparent 
syrup, — could words describe the gratitude of this exile? 

The European dinner is better than the European break- 
fast, but it has its faults and inferiorities, it does not satisfy. 
He comes to the table eager and hungry; he swallows his 
soijp^ — there is an undefinable lack about it somewhere ; 
thinks the fish is going to be the thing he wants, — eats it and 
isn't sure; thinks the next dish is perhaps the one that will 
hit the hungry place, — tries it, and is conscious that there 
was a something wanting about it, also. And thus he goes 
on, from dish to dish, like a boy after a butterfly which just 
misses getting caught every time it alights, but somehow 
doesn't get caught after all; and at the end the exile and the 
boy have fared about alike : the one is full, but grievously 
unsatisfied, the other has had plenty of exercise, plenty of 



EUROPEAN BILL OF FARE. 



573 



interest, and a line lot of hopes, but he hasn't got any but- 
teriiv. There is here and there an American who will say 
he can remember rising from a European table d' hote per- 
fectly satisfied; but we must not overlook the fact that there 
is also here and there an American who will lie. 

The number of dishes is sufiicient ; but then it is such a 
monotonous variety of unstriking dishes. It is an inane dead 
level of " fair-to-middling." There is nothing to accent \i. 
Perhaps if the roast of mutton or of beef, — a big generous 
one,— were brought on the table and carved in full view of 
the client, that might give the right sense of earnestness and 
reality to the thing ; but they don't do that, they pass the 
sliced meat around on a dish, and so you are perfectly calm, 
it does not stir you in the least. Now a vast roast turkey, 
stretched on the broad of his back, with his heels in the air 

and the rich juices oozing from his fat sides but I may 

as well stop there, 
for tliey would not 
know how to cook 
him. They can't even 
cook a chicken re- 
spectably ; and as for 
carving it, they do 
that with a hatchet. 
This is about the 
customary table d' 
hote bill in summer : 
Soup, (character- 
less.) 

Fish — sole, sal. 
mon, or whiting — 
usually tolerably^' 

^ ' EUROPEAN CARVING. 

Eoast — mutton or beef— tasteless — and some last year's 
potatoes. 

A pdte, or some other made-dish— usually good— " consid- 
ering." 




574 



A HOME DINNER ORDERED. 



One vegetable — brought on in state, and all alone — usually 
insipid lentils, or string beans, or indifferent asparagus. 

Roast chicken, as tasteless as paper. 

Lettuce-salad — tolerably good. 

Decayed strawberries or cherries. 
- Sometimes the apricots and figs are fresh, but tliis is uo 
advantage, as these fruits are of no account anyway. 

The grapes are generally good, and sometimes there is a 
tolerabl}' good peach, by mistake. 

The variations of the above bill are trifling. After a fort- 
night one discovers that the variations are only apparent, not 
real ; in the third week you get what you had the first, and 
in the fourth week you get what you had the second. Three 
or four months of this weary sameness will kill the robustest 
appetite. 

It has now been many months, at the present writing, since 
I have had a nourishing meal, but I shall soon have one, — a 
modest, private affair, all to myself. I have selected a few 
dishes, and made out a little bill of fare, which will go home 
in the steamer that precedes me, and be hot when I arrive 
—as follows : 



Radishes. Baked apples, with cream. 

Fried oysters ; stewed oysters. Frogs. 

American coffee, with real cream. 

American butter. 

Fried chicken, Southern style. 

Porter-house steak. 

Saratoga potatoes. 

Broiled chicken, American style. 

Hot biscuits, Southern style. 

Hot wheat-bread. Southern style. 

Hot buckwheat cakes. 

American toast. Clear maple syrup. 

Virginia bacon, broiled. 

Blue points, on the half shell. 

Cherry-stone clams. 

San Francisco mussels, steamed. 

Oyster soup. Clam soup. 

Philadelphia Terapin soup. 



Oysters roasted in shell — Northern 

style. 
Soft-shell crabs. Connecticut shad. 
Baltimore perch. 

Brook trout, from Sierra Nevadas. 
Lake trout, from Tahoe. 
Sheep-head and croakers, from New 

Orleans. 
Black bass from the Mississippi. 
American roast beef. 
Roast turkey. Thanksgiving style- 
Cranberry sauce. Celery. 
Roast wild turkey. Woodcock. 
Canvas-back-duck, from Baltimore. 
Prairie hens, from Illinois. 
Missouri partridges, broiled. 
'Possum. Coon. 
Boston bacon and beans. 



A FEW CHOICE RECIPES. 



Bacon and greens, Southern style. 
Hominy. Boiled onions. Turnips. 
Pumpkin. Squash. Asparagus. 
Butter beans. Sweet potatoes. 
Lettuce. Succotash. String beans 
Mashed potatoes. Catsup 
Boiled potatoes, in their skins 



Green corn, on the ear. 

Hot corn-pone, with chitlings, South 

ern style. 
Hot hoe-cake, Southern style. 
Hot egg-bread, Southern style. 
Hot light-bread, Southern style. 
Buttermilk. Iced sweet milk. 



New potatoes, minus the skins. I Apple dumplings, with real cream. 

Early rose potatoes roasted in the ' -pple pie. Apple fritters. 



ashes. Southern style, served hot. 

Sliced tomatoes, with sugar or vin- 
egar. Stewed tomatoes. 

Green corn, cut from the ear and ser- 
ved with butter and pepper. 



Apple puffs. Southern style. 
Peach cobbler. Southern style 
Peach pie. American mince pie. 
Pumpkin pie. Squash pie. 
All sorts of American pastry. 



Fresh American fruits of all sorts, including strawberries which are not to 
be doled out as if they were jewelry, but in a more liberal way. 

Ice-water -not prepared in the ineffectual goblet, but in the sincere and 
capable refrigerator. 

Americans intending to spend a year or so in European 
hotels, will do well to copy this bill and carry it along. 
They will find it an excellent thing to get up an appetite 
with, in the dispiriting presence of the squalid table d' hote. 

Foreigners cannot enjoy our food, I suppose, any more 
than we can enjoy theirs. It is not strange ; for tastes are 
made, not born. I might glorify my bill of fare until I was 
tired ; but after all, the Scotchman would shake his head 
and say, " Where's your haggis ? " and the Fijian would 
sigh and say, " Where's your missionary ? " 

I have a neat talent in matters pertaining to nourishment. 
This has met with professional recognition. I have often 
furnished recipes for cook-books. Here are some designs for 
pies and things, whieh 1 recently prepared for a friend's 
projected cook-book, but as I forsjot to furnish diagrams 
and perspectives, they had to be left out, of course: 
Hecipe for an Ash-Cake. 

Take a lot of water and add to it a lot of coarse Indian- 
meal and about a quarter of a lot of salt. Mix well together, 
knead into the form of a " pone," and let the pone stand' 
a while, — not on its edge, but the other way. Eake awav 



576 TO PASTE IN YOUR COOK BOOK. 

a place among tlie embers, lay it there, and cover it an inch 
deep with hot ashes. When it is done, remove it ; blow off 
all the ashes but one layer ; butter that one and eat. 

]Sr. B. No household should ever be without this talis- 
man. It has been noticed that tramps never return for 
another ash-cake. 



Recipe for New England Pie. 
To make this excellent breakfast dish, proceed as follows : 
Take a sufficiency of water and a sufficiency of flour, and 
construct a bullet-proof dough. Work this into the form of 
a disk, with the edges turned up some three-fourths of an 
inch. Toughen and kiln-dry it a couple of days in a mild 
bnt unvarying temperature. Construct a cover for this 
redoubt in the same way and of the same material. Fill 
with stewed dried apples ; aggravate with cloves, lemon 
peel and slabs of citron ; add two portions of New Orleans 
sugar, then solder on the lid and set in a safe place till 
it petrifies. Serve cold at breakfast and invite your enemy. 

Becipe for German Coffee. 
Take a barrel of water and bring it to a boil ; rub a chic- 
cory berry against a coffee berry, then convey the former into 
the water. Continue the boiling and evaporation until the 
intensity of the flavor and aroma of the coffee and chiccory 
has been diminished to a proper degree ; then set aside to 
cool. Now unharness the remains of a once cow from the 
plow, insert them in a hydraulic press, and when you shall 
liave acquired a teaspoonful of that pale blue juice w^hich a 
German superstition regards as milk, modify the malig- 
nity of its strength in a bucket of tepid water and ring up 
the breakfast. Mix the beverage in a cold cup, partake 
with moderation, and keep a wet rag around your head to 
guard against over-excitement. 

To Carve Foids in the German Fashion. 
Use a club, and avoid the joints. 



CHAPTER L. 

I WONDER why some things are ? For instance, An is 
allowed as much indecent license to-daj as in earlier 
times — but the privileges of Literature in this respect have 
been sharply curtailed within the past eighty or ninety 
years. Fielding and Smollet could portray the beastliness 
of their day in the beastliest language; we have plenty of 
foul subjects to deal with in our day, but we are not allowed 
to approach them very near, even with nice and guarded 
forms of speech. But not so with Art. The brush may 
still deal freely with any subject, however revolting or 
indelicate. It makes a body ooze sarcasm at every pore, to 
go about Rome and Florence and see what this last genera- 
tion has been doing with the statues. These works, which 
had stood in innocent nakedness for ages, are all fig-leaved 
now. Yes, every one of them. Nobody noticed their 
nakedness before, perhaps ; nobody can help noticing it 
now, the fig-leaf makes it so conspicuous. But the comical 
thing about it all, is, that the fig-leaf is confined to cold and 
pallid marble, which would be still cold and unsuggestive 
without this sham and ostentatious symbol of modesty, 
whereas warm-blooded paintings which do really need it 
have in no case been furnished with it. 

At the door of the TJfizzi, in Florence, one is confronted 
by statues of a man and a woman, noseless, battered, black 
with accumulated grime, — they hardly suggest human beings 

677 



578 INDECENT LICENSE. 

— yet these ridiculous creatures have been thoughtful!}' 
and conscientiously tig-leaved by this fastidious genera- 
tion. You enter, and proceed to that most-visited little 
gallery that exists in the world — the Tribune — and there, 
against the wall, without obstructing rag of leaf, you may 
look your fill upon the foulest, the vilest, the obscenest pic- 
ture the world possesses — Titian's Venus. It isn't that she is 
naked and stretched out on a bed — no, it is the attitude of 
one of her arms and hand. If I ventured to describe that 
attitude, there would be a fine howl — but there the Venus 
lies, for anybody to gloat over that wants to — and there she 
has a right to lie, for she is a work of art, and Art has its 
privileges. I saw young girls stealing furtive glances at 
her ; I saw young men gaze long and absorbedly at her ; I 
saw aged, infirm men hang upon her charms with a pathetic 
interest. How I should like to describe her — just to see 
what a holy indignation I could stir up in the world — ^just to 
hear the unreflecting average man deliver himself about my 
grossness and coarseness, and all that. The world says that 
no worded description of a moving spectacle is a hundredth 
part as moving as the same spectacle seen with one's own 
eyes — yet the world is willing to let its son and its daughter 
and itself look at Titian's beast, but won't stand a descrip- 
tion of it in words. Which shows that the world is not 
as consistent as it might be. 

There are pictures of nude women which suggest no 
impure thought — I am well aware of that. I am not railing 
at such. What 1 am trying to emphasize is the fact that 
Titian's Venus is very far from being one of that sort. 
Without any question it was painted for a bagnio and it was 
probably refused because it was a trifle too strong. In truth 
it is too strong for any place but a public Art Gallery. 
Titian has two Venuses in the Tribune ; persons who have 
seen them will easily remember which one I am referring to. 

In every gallery in Europe there are hideous pictures of 
blood, carnage, oozing brains, putrefaction — pictures portray- 
ing intolerable suffering — pictures alive with every conceiva- 



UNEQUALLED PICTURE. 579 

ble horror, wrought out in dreadful detail — and similar pic- 
tures are being put on the canvas everj day and publicly 
exhibited — without a growl from anybody — ^for they are 
innocent, they are inoflfensive, being works of art. But sup- 
pose a literary artist ventured to go into a pains-taking and 
elaborate description of one of these grisly things — the critics 
would skin liiin alive. Well, let it go, it cannot be helped ; 
Art retains her privileges, Literature has lost hers. Some- 
body else may cipher out the whys and the wherefores and 
the consistencies of it — I haven't got time. 

Titian's Yen us defiles and disgraces the Tribune, there is 
no softening that fact, but his " Moses " glorifies it. The 
simple truthfulness of this noble work wins the heart and 
the applause of every visitor, be he learned or ignorant. 
A.fter wearying oneself with the acres of stuffy, sappy, ex- 
pressionless babies that populate the canvases of the Old 
Masters in Italy, it is refreshing to stand before this peerless 
child and feel that thrill which tells you you are at last in 
the presence of the real thing. This is a human child, this 
is genuine. You have seen him a thousand times — you have 
seen him just as he is here — and you confess, without reserve, 
that Titian was a Master. The doll-faces of other painted 
babes may mean one thing, they may mean another, but with 
the "M)ses" the case is different. The most famous of all 
the art critics has said, " There is no room for doubt, here — 
plainly this child is in trouble." 

I consider that the " Moses " lias no equal among the works 
of the Old Masters, except it be the divine Hair Trunk of 
Bassano. I feel sure that if all the other Old Masters were 
lost and only these two preserved, the world would be the 
gainer by it. 

My sole purpose in going to Florence was to see this im 
mortal "Moses," and by good fortune I was just in time, for 
they were already preparing to remove it to a more private 
and better protected place because a fashion of robbing the 
great galleries was prevailing in Europe at the time. 

I got a capable artist to copy the picture ; Pannemaker, 



580 ^T HOME AGAIN. 

the engraver of Dore's books, engraved it for me, and 1 Lave 
the pleasure of laving it before the reader in tliis volume.* 

We took a turn to Kome and some other Italian cities — 
then to Munich, and thence to Paris — partly fo-r exercise, 
but mainly because these things were in our projected pro- 
gram, and it was only right that we should be faithful to it. 

From Paris I branched out and walked through Holland 
and Belgium, procuring an occasional lift by rail or canal 
when tired, and I had a tolerabl}'' good time of it "by and 
large." I worked Spain and other regions through agents 
to save time and shoe leather. 

We crossed to England, and then made the homeward pas- 
sage in the Cunarder, Gallia, a very fine ship, I was glad to 
get home — immeasurably glad ; so glad, in fact, that it did 
not seem possible that anything could ever get me out of the 
country again. I had not enjoyed a pleasure abroad which 
seemed to me to compare with the pleasure I felt in seeing 
New York harbor again. Europe has many advantages which 
we have not, but they do not compensate for a good many 
still more valuable ones which exist nowhere but in our own 
country. Then we are such a homeless lot when we are over 
there ! So are Europeans themselves, for that matter. They 
live in dark and chilly vast tombs, — costly enough, may be, 
but without conveniences. To be condemned to live as the 
average European family lives would make life a pretty heavy 
burden to the average American family. 

On the whole, I think that short visits to Europe are bet- 
ter for us than long ones. The former preserve us fjcm 
becoming Europeanized ; they keep onr pride of country 
intact, and at the same time they intensify our affection for 
our country and our people ; whereas long visits have the 
effect of dulling those feelings, — at least in the majority of 
cases. I think that one who mixes much with Americans 
long resident abroad must arrive at this conclusion. 

* See Frontispiece. 

THE END. 



APPENDIX. 

Nothing gives such weight and 

dignity to a book as an Appendix. 

Herodotus, 



APPENDIX A. 



THE PORTIER. 



Omar Kliayam, the poet-prophet of Persia, writing more than 
eight hundred years ago, has said: 

"In the four parts of the earth are many that are able to write learned 
books, many that are able to lead armies, and many also that are able to 
govei'n kingdoms and empires; but few there be that can keep hotel." 

A word about the European hotel portier. He is a most admir- 
able invention, a most valuable convenience. He always wears a 
conspicuous uniform; he can always be found when he is wanted, 
for he sticks closely to his post at the front door; he is as polite as 
a duke; he speaks from four to ten languages; he is your surest 
help and refuge in time of trouble or perplexity. He is not the 
clerk, he is not the landlord; he ranks above the clerk, and repre- 
sents the landlord, who is seldom seen. Instead of going to the 
clerk for information, as we do at home, you go to the portier. 
It is the pride of our average hotel clerk to know nothing what- 
ever ; it is the pride of the portier to know everything. You ask 
the portier at what hours the trains leave, — ^he tells you instantly; 
or you ask him who is the best physician in town; or what is the 
hack tariff ; or how many children the mayor has ; or what days 
the galleries are open, and whether a permit is required, and 
where you are to get it, and what you must pay for it; or when 
the taeatres open and close, what the plays are to be, and the 
price of seats ; or what is the newest thing in hats ; or how the 
bills of mortality average; or "who struck Billy Patterson." It 
does not matter what you ask him: in nine cases out of ten he 
knows, and in the tenth case he will find out for you before you 
can turn around three times. There is nothing he will not put 



AVAILABILITY OF THE PORTIEE. 



583 



his hand to. Suppose you tell him you wish to go from Hamburg 
to Peking by the way of Jericho, and are ignorant of routes and 
prices, — the next morning he will hand you a piece of paper with 
the whole thing worked out on it to the last detail. Before you 
have been long on European soil, you find yourself still saying 
you are relying on Providence, but when you come to look closer 
you will see that in reality you are relying on the portier. He 
discovers what is puzzling you, or what is troubling you, or what 
your need is, before you can get the half of it out, and he promptly 
says, " Leave that to me." Consequently you easily drift into the 
habit of leaving everything to him. There is a certain embar- 
rassment about applying to the average American hotel clerk, a 
certain hesitancy, a sense of insecurity against rebuff; but you 
feel no embarrassment in your intercourse with the portier; he 
receives your propositions with an enthusiasm which cheers, and 
plunges into their accomplishment with an alacrity which almost 
inebriates. The more requirements you can pile upon him, the 
better he likes it. Of course the result is that, you cease from 
doing anything for yourself. He calls a hack when you want one ; . 
puts you into it; tells the driver whither to take you; receives 
you like a long lost child when you return; sends you about your 
business, does all the quarreling with the hackman himself, and 
pays him his money out of his own pocket. He sends for your 
theatre tickets, and pays for them; he sends for any possible 
article you can require, be it a doctor, an elephant, or a postage 
strmp; and when you leave, at last, you will find a subordinate 
seated with the cab driver who will put you in your railway com- 
partment, buy your tickets, have your baggage weighed, bring 
you the printed tags, and tell you everything is in your bill and 
paid for. At home you get such elaborate, excellent, and willing 
service as this only in the best hotels of our large cities; but in 
Europe you get it in the mere back country towns just as well. 

What is the secret of the portier's devotion ? It is very simple : 
he gets fees, and no salary. His fee is pretty closely regulated, 
too. If you stay a week in the house, you give him five marks — 
a dollar and a quarter, or about eighteen cents a day. If you 
stay a month, you reduce this average somewhat. If you stay 
two or three months or longer, you cut it down half, or even more 
than half. If you stay only one day, you give the portier a mark. 



584 



APPENDIX A. 



The liead waiter's fee is a shade less than the portier's; the 
Boots, who not only blacks your boots and brushes your clothes, 
but is usually the porter and handles your baggage, gets a some- 
what smaller fee than the head waiter; the chambermaid's fee 
ranks below that of the Boots. You fee only these four, and no 
one else. A G-erman gentleman told me that when he remained 
a week in a hotel, he gave the portier five marks, the head waiter 
four, the Boots three, and the chambermaid two ; and if he staid 
three months he divided ninety marks among them, in about the 
above proportions. Ninety marks make $22.50. 

None of these fees are ever paid until you leave the hotel, 
though it be a year, — except one of these four servants should go 
away in the meantime; in that case he will be sure to come and 
bid you good-bye and give you the opportunity to pay him what 
is fairly coming to him. It is considered very bad policy to fee a 
servant while you are still to remain longer in the hotel, because 
if you gave him too little he might neglect you afterward, and if 
you gave him too much he might neglect somebody else to attend 
to you. It is considered best to keep his expectations "on a 
string " until your stay is concluded. 

I do not know whether hotel servants in New York get any 
wages or not, but I do know that in some of the hotels there the 
feeing system in vogue is a heavy burden. The waiter expects a 
quarter at breakfast, — and gets it. You have a different waiter 
at luncheon, and so he gets a quarter. Your waiter at dinner is 
another stranger, — consequently he gets a quarter. The boy who 
carries your satchel to your room and lights your gas, fumbles 
around and hangs around significantly, and you fee him to get 
rid of him. Now you may ring for ice water ; and ten minutes 
later for a lemonade; and ten minutes afterwards, for a cigar; 
and by and by for a newspaper, — and what is the result ? Why, 
a new boy has appeared every time and fooled and fumbled 
around until you have paid him something. Suppose you boldly 
put your foot down, and say it is the hotel's business to pay its 
servants ? — and suppose you stand your ground and stop feeing ? 
You will have to ring your bell ten or fifteen times before you 
get a servant there ; and when he goes off to ^11 your order you 
will grow old and infirm before you see him again. You may 
struggle nobly for twenty-four hours, maybe, if you are an ada- 



AMERICAlSr HOTELS. 



585 



mantine sort of person, but in the meantime you will have been 
so wretchedly served, and so insolently, that you will haul down 
your colors, and go to impoverishing yourself with fees. 




A TWENTY-FOUR HOUR FIGHT. 



It seems to me that it would be a happy idea to import the 
European feeing system into America. I believe it would result 
in getting even the bells of the Philadelphia hotels answered, and 
cheerful service rendered. 

The greatest American hotels keep a number of clerks and' a 
cashier, and pay them salaries which mount up to a considerable 
total in the course of a year. The great continental hotels keep a 
cashier on a trifling salary, and a portier ^vho pays the hotel a salary. 
By the latter system both the hotel and the public save money 
and are better served than by our system. One of our consuls 
told me that the portier of a great Berlin hotel paid $5,000 a year 
for his position, and yet cleared $6,000 for himself. The position 
of portier in the chief hotels of Saratoga, Long Branch, New 
York, and similar centers of resort, would be one which the holder 
could afford to pay even more than $5,000 for, perhaps. 

When we borrowed the feeing fashion from Europe a dozen 
years ago, the salary system ought to have been discontinued, of 
course. We might make this correction now, I should think. 
And we might add the portier, too. Since I first began to study 
the portier, I have had opportunities to observe him in the chief 
34 



586 APPENDIX A. 

cities of Germany, Switzerland, and Italy; and the more I have 
seen of him the more I have wished that he might be adopted in 
America, and become there, as he is in Europe, the stranger's 
guardian angel. 

Yes, what was true eight hundred years ago, is just as true 
to-day: ''Few there be that can keep hotel." Perhaps it is 
because the landlords and their subordinates have in too many 
cases taken up their trade without first learning it. In Europe 
the trade of hotel-keeper is taught. The apprentice begins at the 
bottom of the ladder and masters the several grades one after 
the other. Just as in our country printing-offices the apprentice 
first learns how to sweep out and bring water; then learns to 
"roll"; then to sort "pi"; then to set type; and finally rounds 
and completes his education with job-work and press-work : so the 
landlord-apprentice serves as call-boy; then as under- waiter; then 
as a parlor- waiter; then as head- waiter, in which position he often 
has to make out all the bills; then as clerk or cashier; then as 
portier. His trade is learned now, and by and by he will assume 
the style and dignity of landlord, and be found conducting a hotel 
of his own. 

Now in Europe, the same as in America, when a man has kept 
a hotel so thoroughly well during a number of years as to give it 
a great reputation, he has his reward. He can live prosperously 
on that reputation. He can let his hotel run down to 'the last 
degree of shabbiness and yet have it full of people all the time. 
For instance, there is the Hotel de Ville, in Milan. It swarms 
with mice and fleas, and if the rest of the world were destroyed 
it could furnish dirt enough to start another one with. The food 
would create an insurrection in a poor-house; and yet if you go 
outside to get your meals that hotel makes up its loss by over- 
charging you on all sorts of trifles, — and without making any 
denials or excuses about it, feither. But the Hotel de Ville's old 
excellent reputation still keeps its dreary rooms crowded with 
/;ravelers who would be elsewhere if they had only had some wise 
friend to warn them. 



B. 



HEIDELBEEG CASTLE. 

Heidelberg Castle must have been very beautiful before the 
French battered and bruised and scorched it two hundred years 
ago. The stone is brown, with a pinkish tint, and does not seem 
to stain easily. The dainty and elaborate ornamentation upon its 
two chief fronts is as delicately carved as if it had been intended 
for the interior of a drawing-room rather than for the outside of 
a house. Many fruit and flower-clusters, human heads and grim 
projecting lion's heads are still as perfect in every detail as if 
they were new. But the statues which are rankpd between the 
windows have suffered. These are life-size statues of old-time 
emperors, electors, and similar grandees, clad in mail and bearing 
ponderous swords. Some have lost an arm, some a head, and one 
poor fellow is chopped off at the middle. There is a saying that 
if a stranger will pass over the draw-bridge and walk across the 
court to the castle front without saying anything, he can make a 
wish and it will be fulfilled. But they say that the truth of this 
thing has never had a chance to be proved, for the reason that be- 
fore any stranger can walk from the drawbridge to the appointed 
place, the beauty of the palace front will extort an exclamation of 
delight from him. 

A ruin must be rightly situated, to be effective. This one could 
not have been better placed. It stands upon a commanding eleva- 
tion, it is buried in green woods, there is no level ground about it, 
but on the contrary there are wooded terraces upon terraces, and 
one looks down through shining leaves into profound chasms and 
abysses where twilight reigns and the sun cannot intrude. Nature 



588 APPENDIX B. 

knows how to garnisli a ruin to get the best effect. One of these 
old towers is split down the middle, and one half has tumbled 
aside. It tumbled in such a way as to establish itself in a pictur- 
esque attitude. Then all it lacked was a fitting drapery, and 
Nature has furnished that; she has robed the rugged mass in 
flowers and verdure, and made it a charm to the eye. The stand- 
ing half exposes its arched and cavernous rooms to you, like open, 
toothless mouths; there, too, the vines and flowers have done their 
work of grace. The rear portion of the tower has not been neg- 
lected, either, but is clothed with a clinging garment of polished 
ivy which hides the wounds and stains of time. Even the top is 
not left bare, but is crowned with a flourishing group of trees and 
shrubs. Misfortune has done for this old tower what it has done 
for the human character sometimes — improved it. 

A gentleman remarked, one day, that it might have been fine 
to live in the castle in the day of its prime, but that we had one 
advantage which its vanished inhabitants lacked — the advantage 
of having a charming ruin to visit and muse over. But that was 
a hasty idea. Those people had the advantage of us. They had 
the fine castle to live in, and they could cross the Rhine valley and 
muse over the stately ruin of Trifels besides. The Trifels people, 
in their day, five hundred years ago, could go and muse over 
majestic ruins which have vanished, now, to the last stone, 
"^here have always been ruins, no doubt; and there have always 
oeen pensive people to sigh over them, and asses to scratch upon 
them their names and the important date of their visit. Within 
a hundred years after Adam left Eden, the guide probably gave 
the usual general flourish with his hand and said: "Place where 
the animals were named, ladies and gentlemen; place where the 
tree of the forbidden fruit stood; exact spot where Adam and 
Eve first met; and here, ladies and gentlemen, adorned and hal- 
lowed by the names and addresses of three generations of tourists, 
we have the crumbling remains of Cain's altar, — fine old ruin ! " 
Then, no doubt, he taxed them a shekel apiece and let them go. 

An illumination of Heidelberg Castle is one of the sights of 
Europe. The Castle's picturesque shape ; its commanding situa- 
tion, midway up the steep and wooded mountain side; its vast 
size, — these features combine to make an illumination a most 
effective spectacle. It is necessarily an expensive shc?i,, and con- 



HEIDELBEHa CASTLE ILLUMINATED. 589 

sequently rather infrequent. Therefore whenever one of these 
exhibitions is to take place, the news goes about in the papers and 
Heidelberg is sure to be full of people on that night. 1 and my 
agent had one of these opportunities, and improved it. 

About half past seven on the appointed evening we crossed the 
lower bridge, with some American students, in a pouring rain, 
and started up the road which borders the Neunheim side of the 
river. This roadway was densely packed with carriages and foot 
passengers; the former of all ages, and the latter of all ages and 
both sexes. This black and solid mass was struggling painfully 
onward, through the slop, the darkness, and the deluge. We 
waded along for three-quarters of a mile, and finally took up a 
position in an unsheltered beer garden directly opposite the Castle. 
"We could not see the Castle, — or anything else, for that matter, — 
but we could dimly discern the outlines of the mountain over the 
way, through the pervading blackness, and knew whereabouts the 
Castle was located. We stood on one of the hundred benches in 
the garden, under our umbrellas ; the other ninety-nine were occu- 
pied by standing men and women, and they also had umbrellas. 
All the region round about, and up and down the river-road, was 
a dense wilderness of humanity hidden under an unbroken pave- 
ment of carriage tops and umbrellas. Thus we stood during two 
drenching hours. No rain fell on my head, but the converging 
whalebone points of a dozen neighboring umbrellas poured httle 
cooling streams of water down my neck, and sometimes into my 
ears, and thus kept me from getting hot and impatient. I had 
the rheumatism, too, and had heard that this was good for it. 
A.fterward, however, I was led to believe that the water treatment 
is not good for rheumatism. There were even little girls in that 
dreadful place. A man held one in his arms, just in front of me, 
for as much as an hour, with umbrella-drippings soaking into her 
clothing all the time. 

In the circumstances, two hours was a good while for us to 
have to wait, but when the illumination did at last come, we felt 
repaid. It came unexpectedly, of course, — things always do, that 
have been long looked and longed for. With a perfectly breath- 
takmg suddenness several vast sheaves of vari-colored rockets 
were vomited skyward out of the black throats of the castle 
towers, accompanied by a thundering crash of sound, and instantly 



a 90 APPENDIX B. 

every detail of the prodigious ruin stood revealed against the 
mountain side and glowing with an almost intolerable splendor of 
fire and color. For some little time the whole building was a 
bhnding crimson mass, the towers continued to spout thick col- 
umns of rockets aloft, and overhead the sky was radiant with 
arrowy bolts which clove their way to the zenith, paused, curved 
gracefully downward, then burst into brilliant fountain sprays of 
richly colored sparks. The red fires died slowly down, within 
the castle, and presently the shell grew nearly black outside ; the 
angry glare that shone out through the broken arches and innu- 
merable sashless windows, now, reproduced the aspect which the 
Castle must have borne in the old time when the French spoilers 
saw the monster bonfire which they had made there fading and 
smouldering toward extinction. 

"While we still gazed and enjoyed, the ruin was suddenly envel- 
oped in rolling and tumbhng volumes of vaporous green fire; 
then in dazzling purple ones; then a mixture of many colors fol- 
lowed, and drowned the great fabric in its blended splendors. 
Meantime the nearest bridge had been iUuminated, and from 
several rafts anchored in the river, meteor showers of rockets, 
Roman candles, bombs, serpents, and Catharine wheels were being 
discharged in wasteful profusion into the sky, — a marvelous sight 
indeed to a person as Httle used to such spectacles as I was. For 
a while the whole region about us seemed as bright as day, and 
yet the rain was falling in torrents all the time. The evening's 
entertainment presently closed, and we joined the innumerable 
caravan of half-drowned spectators, and waded home again. 

The Castle grounds are very ample and very beautiful ; and as 
they joined the Hotel grounds, with no fences to climb, but only 
some nobly shaded stone stairways to descend, we spent a part of 
nearly every day in idling through their smooth walks and leafy 
groves. There was an attractive spot among the trees where 
were a great many wooden tables and benches ; and there one 
could sit in the shade and pretend to sip at his foamy beaker of 
beer while he inspected the crowd. I say pretend, because 1 
only pretended to sip, without really sipping. That is the polite 
way; but when you are ready to go, you empty the beaker at a 
draught. There was a brass band, and it furnished excellent 
music every afternoon. Sometimes so many people came that 



THE GREAT IIEIDELBEKG TUN. 591 

every seat was occupied, every table filled. And never a rough 
in the assemblage, — all nicely dressed fathers and mothers, young 
gentlemen and ladies and children ; and plenty of university stu- 
dents and glittering officers ; with here and there a gray professor, 
or a peaceful old lady with her knitting; and always a sprinkling 
of gawky foreigners. Everybody had his glass of beer before 
him, or his cup of coffee, or his bottle of wine, or his hot cutlet 
and potatoes; young ladies chatted, or fanned themselves, or 
wrought at their crotcheting or embroidering; the students fed 
sugar to their dogs, or discussed duels, or illustrated new fencing- 
tricks with their little canes ; and everywhere was comfort and 
enjoyment, and everywhere peace and good-will to men. The 
trees were jubilant with birds, and the paths with rollicking chil- 
dren. One could have a seat in that place and plenty of music, 
any afternoon, for about eight cents, or a family ticket for the 
season for two dollars. 

For a change, when you wanted one, you could stroll to the 
castle, and burrow among its dungeons, or climb about its ruined 
towers, or visit its interior shows, — the great Heidelberg Tun, for 
instance. Everybody has heard of the great Heidelberg Tun, and 
most people have seen it, no doubt. It is a wine cask as big as a 
cottage, and some traditions say it holds eighteen hundred thou- 
sand bottles, and other traditions say it holds eighteen hundred 
million barrels. I think it likely that one of these statements is a 
mistake, and the other one a lie. However, the mere matter of 
capacity is a thing of no sort of consequence, since the cask is 
empty, and indeed has always been empty, history says. An 
empty cask the size' of a cathedral could excite but little emotion 
in me. I do not see any wisdom in building a monster cask to 
hoard up emptiness in, when you can get a better quality, out- 
side, any day, free of expense. What could this cask have been 
built for? The more one studies over that, the more uncertain 
and unhappy he becomes. Some historians say that thirty couples, 
some say thirty thousand couples, can dance on the head of this 
cask at the same time. Even this does not seem to me to account 
for the building of it. It does not even throw light on it. A 
profound and scholarly Englishman, — a specialist, — who had made 
the great Heidelberg Tun his sole study for fifteen years, told me 
he had at last satisfied himself that the ancients built it to make 



592 



APPENDIX B. 



German cream in. He said tliat the average German cow yielded 
from one to two and a half teaspoonfuls of milk, when she was 




GREAT HEIDELBERG TUN. 



not worked in the plow or the hay wagon more than eighteen or 
nineteen hours a day. This milk was very sweet and good, and 
of a beautiful transparent bluish tint; but in order to get cream 
from it in the most economical way, a peculiar process was neces- 
sary. Now he believed that the habit of the ancients was to 
collect several milkings in a teacup, pour it into the Great Tun, 
fill up with water, and then skim ofE the cream from time to time 
as the needs of the German Empire demanded. 

This began to look reasonable. It certainly began to account 
for the German cream which I had encountered and marveled over 
in so many hotels and restaurants. But a thought struck me, — 

" Why did not each ancient dairyman take his own teacup of 
milk and his own cask of water, and mix them, without making a 
government matter of it ? " 



BUYING ANCESTORS. 6S3 

" Where could he get a cask large enougli to contain the right 
proportion of water?" 

Very true. It was plain that the Englishman had studied the 
matter from all sides. Still I thought I might catch him on one 
point; so I asked him why the modern empire did not make the 
nation's cream in the Heidelberg Tun, instead of leaving it to rot 
away unused. But he answered as one prepared, — 

"A patient and diligent examination of the modern German 
cream has satisfied me that they do not use the Great Tun now, 
because they have got a bigger one hid away somewhere. Either 
that is the case or they empty the spring milkings into the moun- 
tain torrents and then skim the Ehine all summer." 

There is a museum of antiquities in the castle, and among its 
most treasured relics are ancient manuscripts connected with 
German history. There are hundreds of these, and their dates 
stretch back through many centuries. One of them is a decree 
signed and sealed by the hand of a successor of Charlmagne, in 
the year 896. A signature made by a hand which vanished out 
of this life near a thousand years ago, is a more impressive thing 
than even a ruined castle. Luther's wedding ring was shown me; 
also a fork belonging to a time anterior to our era, and an early 
bootjack. And there was a plaster cast of the head of a man who 
was assassinated about sixty years ago. The stab-wounds in the 
face were duplicated with unpleasant fidelity. One or two real 
hairs still remained sticking in the eyebrows of the cast. That 
trifle seemed to almost change the counterfeit into a corpse. 

There are many aged portraits, — some valuable, some worthless; 
some of great interest, some of none at all. I bought a couple, — 
one a gorgeous duke of the olden time, and the other a comely 
blue-eyed damsel, a princess, may be. I bought them to start a 
portrait gallery of my ancestors with. 1 paid a dollar and a half 
for the duke and two and a half for the princess. One can lay in 
ancestors at even cheaper rates than these, in Europe, if he will 
mouse among old picture shops and look out for chances. 



a 



THE COLLEGE PRISON. 

It seems that the student may break a go®d many of the public 
laws without having to answer to the public authorities. His case 
must come before the University for trial and punishment. If a 
policeman catches him in an unlawful act and proceeds to arrest 
him, the offender proclaims that he is a student, and perhaps 
shows his matriculation card, whereupon the officer asks for his 
address, then goes his way, and reports the matter at headquarters. 
If the offense is one over which the city has no jurisdiction, the 
authorities report the case officially to the University, and give 
themselves no further concern about it. The University court 
send for the student, listen to the evidence, and pronounce judg- 
ment. The punishment usually inflicted is imprisonment in the 
University prison. As I understand it, a student's case is often 
tried without his being present at all. Then something like this 
happens: A constable in the service of the University visits the 
■lodgings of the said student, knocks, is invited to come m, does 
so, and says politely,— 

"If you please, I am here to conduct you to prison." 

"Ah," says the student, "I was not expecting it. What have 1 
been doing ? " 

" Two weeks ago the public peace had the honor to be disturbed 
by you." 

"It is true; I had forgotten it. Very well: I have been com- 
plained of, tried, and found guilty — is that it ? " 

" Exactly. You are sentenced to two days' solitary confinement 
in the College prison, and I am sent to fetch you." 



ACCOMMODATING LAWS. ^95 

Student. " 0, I can't go to-day ! " 

Officer. " If you please, — why ? " 

Student. '' Because I've got an engagement." 

Officer. ''To-morrow, then, perhaps?" 

Studeyit. " No, I am going to the opera, to-morrow." 

Officer. '' Could you come Friday ? " 

Student. (Reflectively.) "Let me see, — Friday — Friday. I 
don't seem to have anything on hand Friday." 

Officer. " Then, if you please, I will expect you on Friday.'' 

Student. "All right, I'll come around Friday." 

Officer. "Thank you. Good day, sir." 

Student. "Good day." 

So on Friday the student goes to the prison of his own accord, 
and is admitted. 

It is questionable if the world's criminal history can show a 
custom more odd than this. Nobody knows, now, how it orig- 
inated. There have always been many noblemen among the stu- 
dents, and it is presumed that all students are gentlemen; in the 
old times it was usual to mar the convenience of such folk as 
little as possible; perhaps this indulgent custom owes its origin 
to this. 

One day I was listening to some conversation upon this subject 
when an American student said that for some time he had been 
under sentence for a slight breach of the peace and had promised 
the constable that he would presently find an unoccupied day and 
betake himself to prison. I asked the young gentleman to do me 
the kindness to go to jail as soon as he conveniently could, so that 
I might try to get in there and visit him, and see what college- 
captivity was like. He said he would appoint the very first day 
he could spare. 

His confinement was to endure twenty-four hours. He shortly 
chose his day, and sent me word. I started immediately. When 
I reached the University Place, I saw two gentlemen talking 
together, and as they had portfolios under their arms, I judged 
they were tutors or elderly students ; so I asked them in English 
to show me the college jail. I had learned to take it for granted 
that anybody in Germany who knows anything, knows English, 
so I had stopped afflicting people with my German. These gentle- 
men seemed a trifle amused, — and a trifle confused, too, — ^but one 



696 APPENDIX C. 

of them said he would walk around the corner with me and show 
me the place. He asked me why I wanted to get in there, and I 
said to see a friend, — and for curiosity. He doubted if I would 
be admitted, but volunteered to put in a word or two for me with 
the custodian. 

He rang the bell, a door opened, and we stepped into a paved 
way and then into a small living-room, where we were received 
by a hearty and good natured German woman of fifty. She threw 
up her hands with a surprised "Ach Gott, Herr Professor ! " and 
exhibited a mighty deference for my new acquaintance. By the 
sparkle in her eye I judged she was a good deal amused, too. 
The " Herr Professor " talked to her in German, and I understood 
enough of it to know that he was bringing very plausible reasons 
to bear for admitting me. They were successful. So the Herr 
Professor received my earnest thanks and departed. The old 
dame got her keys, took me up two or three flights of stairs, 
unlocked a door, and we stood in the presence of the- criminal. 
Then she went into a jolly and eager description of all that had 
occurred down stairs, and what the Herr Professor had said, and 
so forth and so on. Plainly she regarded it as quite a superior 
joke that I had waylaid a Professor and employed him in so odd 
a service. But I wouldn't have done it if I had known he was a 
Professor; therefore my conscience was not disturbed. 

Now the dame left us to ourselves. The cell was not a roomy 
one; still it was a little larger than an ordinary prison cell. It 
had a window of good size, iron-grated; a small stove; two 
wooden chairs; two oaken tables, very old and most elaborately 
carved -^ith names, mottoes, faces, armorial bearings, etc., — the 
work of several generations of imprisoned students; and a narrow 
wooden bedstead with a villainous old straw mattress, but no 
sheets, pillows, blankets or coverlets, — for these the student must 
furnish at his own cost if he wants them. There was no carpet, 
of course. 

The ceiling was completely covered with names, dates, and mon- 
ograms, done with candle smoke. The walls were thickly covered 
with pictures and portraits (in profile), some done with ink, some 
with soot, some with a pencil, and some with red, blue, and green 
chalks; and wherever an inch or two of space had remained 
between the pictures, the captives had written plaintive verses, or 



MOTTOES OF PRISONEES. 



597 



names and dates. I do not think I was ever in a more elaborately 
frescoed apartment. 

Against the wall hung a placard containing the prison laws. I 
made a note of one or two of these. For instance: The prisoner 
must pay, for the "privilege" of entering, a sum equivalent to 
20 cents of our money; for the privilege of leaving, when his 
term has expired, 20 cents; for every day spent in the prison, 12 
cents; for fire and light, 12 cents a day. The jailor furnishes 
coffee, mornings, for a small sum; dinners and suppers may be 
ordered from outside if the prisoner chooses, — and he is allowed 
to pay for them, too. 

Here and there, on the walls, appeared the names of American 
students, and in one place the 
American arms and motto 
were displayed in colored 
chalks. 

"With the help of my friend 
I translated many of the in- 
scriptions. Some of them 
were cheerful, others the re- 
verse. I will give the reader 
a few specimens: 

"In my tenth semestre, 
(my best one.) I am cast here 
through the complaints of 
others. Let those who follow 
me take warning." 

"HI Tage ohne Grund 
angeblich aus Neugierde." 
Which is to say, he had a cu- 
riosity to know what prison- 
life was like; so he made a 
breach in some law and got 
three days for it. It is more 
than likely that he never had the same curiosity again. 

[Translation.) " E. Glinicke, four days for being too eager a 
spectator of a row." 

"F. Graf Bismarck,— 27-29, II, '74." Which means that 
Count Bismark, son of the great statesman, was a prisoner two 
days in 1874. 




BISMARCK IN PRISON. 



598 ' APPENDIX C. 

{Translation.^ " R. Diergandt, — for Love, — 4 days." Many 
people in this world laave caught it heavier than that for the same 
indiscretion. 

This one is terse. I translate: 

" Four weeks for misinterpreted gallantry" 

I wish the sufferer had explained a little more fully. A four 
weeks' term is a rather serious matter. 

There were many uncomplimentary references, on the walls, to 
a certain unpopular college dignitary. One sufferer had got three 
days for not saluting him. Another had "here two days slept and 
three nights lain awake," on account of this same " Dr. K." In 
one place was a picture of Dr. K. hanging on a gallows. 

Here and there, lonesome prisoners had eased the heavy time 
by altering the records left by predecessors. Leaving the name 
standing, and the date and length of the captivity, they had erased 
the description of the misdemeanor, and written in its place, in 
staring capitals, "for theft!" or "for murder!" or some other 
gaudy crime. In one place, all by itself, stood this blood-curdling 
word: 

" Rache ! " * 

There was no name signed, and no date. It was an inscription 
well calculated to pique curiosity. One would greatly like to 
know the nature of the wrong that had been done, and what sort 
of vengeance was wanted, and whether the prisoner ever achieved 
it or not. But there was no way of finding out these things. 

Occasionally a name was followed simply by the remark, " II 
days, for disturbing the peace," and withoiit comment upon the 
justice or injustice of the sentence. 

In one place was a hilarious picture of a student of the green- 
cap corps with a bottle of champagne in each hand; and below 
was the legend: " These make an evil fate endurable." 

There were two prison cells, and neither had space left on walls 
or ceiling for another name or portrait or picture. The inside 
surfaces of the two doors were completely covered with cartes de 
visite of former prisoners, ingeniously let into the wood and pro- 
tected from dirt and injury by glass. 

I very much wanted one of the sorry old tables which the pris- 

*" Revenge 1" 



EELICS OF THE PEIS03N'. 599 

oners had spent so many years in ornamenting with their pocket 
knives, but red tape was in the way. The custodian could not sell 
one without an order from a superior; and that superior would 
have to get it from his superior; and this one would have to get it 
from a higher one, — and so on up and up until the faculty should 
sit on the matter and deliver final judgment. The system was 
right, and nobody could find fault with it; but it did not seem 
justifiable to bother so many people, so I proceeded no further. 
It might have cost me more than I could aiiord, anyway; for one 
of those prison tables, which was at that time in a private museum 
m Heidelberg, was afterwards sold at auction for two hundred 
and fifty dollars. It was not worth more than a dollar, or possi- 
bly a dollar and a half, before the captive students began their 
work on it. Persons who saw it at the auction said it was so 
curiously and wonderfully carved that it was worth the money 
that was paid for it. 

Among the many who have tasted the college prison's dreary 
hospitality was a lively young fellow from one of the Southern 
States of America, whose first year's experience of German uni- 
versity life was rather peculiar. The day he arrived in Heidelberg 
he enrolled his name on the college books, and was so elated with 
the fact that his dearest hope had found fruition and he was actu- 
ally a student of the old and renowned university, that he set to 
work that very night to celebrate the event by a grand lark in 
company with some other students. In the course of his lark he 
managed to make a wide breach in one of the university's most 
stringent laws. Sequel: before noon, next day, he was in the 
college prison, — booked for three months. The twelve long weeks 
dragged slowly by, and the day of deliverance came at last. A 
great crowd of S5anpathizing fellow-students received him with a 
rousing demonstration as he came forth, and of course there was 
another grand lark, — in the course of which he managed to make 
a wide breach in one of the city''s most stringent laws. Sequel: 
before noon, next day, he was safe in the city lock-up, — booked 
for three months. This second tedious captivity drew to an end 
in the course of time, and again a great crowd of sympathizing 
fellow-students gave him a rousing reception as he came forth; 
but his delight in his freedom was so boundless that he could not 
proceed soberly and calmly, but must go hopping and skipping 



600 



APPENDIX C. 



and jumping down the sleety street from sheer excess of joy. 
Sequel: he slipped and broke his leg, and actually lay in the 
hospital during the next three months ! 

When he at last became a free man again, he said he believed 
he would hunt up a brisker seat of learning; the Heidelberg 
lectures might be good, but the opportunities of attending them 
were too rare, the educational process too slow; he said he had 
come to Europe with the idea that the acquirement of an educa- 
tion was only a matter of time, but if he had averaged the 
Heidelberg system correctly, it was rather a matter of eternity. 



■J,. 









\-5jJ5k-X. /i'«^>^j>■ 



\ 



i*-! 




D. 



THE AWFUL GERMAN LANGUAGE. 

A little learning makes the whole world kin. — Proverbs xxxii, 7. 

I went often to look at the collection of curiosities in Heidel- 
berg Castle, and one day I surprised the keeper of it with my 
German. I spoke entirely in that language. He was greatly 
interested; and after 1 had talked awhile he said my German was, 
very rare, possibly a ''unique;" and wanted to add it to his- 
museum. 

If he had known what it had cost me to acquire my art, he 
would also have known that it would break any collector to buy 
it. Harris and I had been hard at work on our German during 
several weeks at that time, and although we had made good 
progress, it had been accomplished under great difficulty and 
annoyance, for three of our teachers had died in the meantime. 
A person who has not studied German can form no idea of what 
a perplexing language it is. 

Surely there is not another language that is so slip-shod and sys^ 
temless, and so slippery and elusive to the grasp. One is washed 
about in it, hither and hither, in the most helpless way; and when 
at last he thinks he has captured a rule which offers firm ground to 
take a rest on amid the general rage and turmoil of the ten parts of 
speech, he turns over the page and reads, " Let the pupil make 
careful note of the following exceptions.'''' He runs his eye down 
and finds that there are more exceptions to the rule than instances 
of it. So overboard he goes again, to hunt for another Ararat 
and find another quicksand. Such has been, and continues to be, 
35 



602 APPENDIX D. 

my experience. Every time I think I have got one of these four 
confusing "cases" where I am master of it, a seemingly insignifi- 
cant preposition intrudes itself into my sentence, clothed with an 
awful and unsuspected power, and crumbles the ground from 
under me. For instance, my book inquires after a certain bird 
— (it IS always inquiring after things which are of no sort of con 
sequence to anybody): " Where is the bird?" Now the answei 
to this question, — according to the book, — is that the bird is wait- 
ing in the blacksmith shop on account of the rain. Of course no 
bird would do that, but then you must stick to the book. Very 
well, I begin to cipher out the German for that answer. I begin 
at the wrong end, necessarily, for that is the German idea. I say 
to myself, "-Regen, (rain,) is ma.sculine — or maybe it is feminine — 
or possibly neuter — it is too much trouble to look, now. There- 
fore, it IS either der (the) Regen, or die (the) Regen, or das (the) 
Regen, according to which gender it may turn out to be when I 
look. In the interest of science, I will cipher it out on the 
hypothesis that it is masculine. Very well — then the rain is der 
Regen, if it is simply in the quiescent state of being mentioned, 
without enlargement or discussion — Nominative case ; but if this 
rain is lying around, in a kind of a general way on the ground, it 
is then definitely located, it is doing something — that is, resting, 
(which is one of the German grammar's ideas of doing some- 
thing,) and this throws the rain into the Dative case, and makes 
it dem Regen. However, this rain is not resting, but is doing 
something actively, — it is falling, — to interfere with the bird, 
likely, — and this indicates movement, which has the eifect of sliding 
it into the Accusative case and changing dem Regen into den 
Regen." Having completed the grammatical horoscope of this 
matter, I answer up confidently and state in German that the bird 
is staying in the blacksmith shop "wegen (on account of) den 
Regen." Then the teacher lets me softly down with the remark 
that whenever the word " wegen " drops into a sentence, it always 
throws that subject into the Genitive case, regardless of conse- 
quences — and that therefore this bird staid in the blacksmith shop 
"wegen des Regens." 

N. B. I was informed, later, by a higher authority, that there 
was an "exception" which permits one to say "wegen den Regen" 



THE GERMAN LANGUAGE. 603 

in certain peculiar and complex circumstances, but that this excep- 
tion is not extended to anything hut rain. . 

There are ten parts of speech, and they are all troublesome. 
An average sentence, in a German newspaper, is a suhlime and 
impressive curiosity; it occupies a quarter of a column ■, it con- 
tains all the ten parts of speech — not in regular order, but mixed ; 
it is built mainly of compound words constructed by the writer 
on the spot, and not to be found in any dictionary — six or seven 
words compacted into one, without joint or seam — that is, without 
hyphens; it treats of fourteen or fifteen different subjects, each 
enclosed in a parenthesis of its own, with here and there extra 
parentheses which re-enclose three or four of the minor parenthe- 
ses, making pens within pens; finally, all the parentheses and 
re-parentheses are massed together between a couple of king, 
parentheses, one of which is placed in the first line of the majestic 
sentence and the other in the middle of the last line of it — after 
loliicli comes the verb, and you find out for the first time what the 
man has been talking about ; and after the verb — merely by way 
of ornament, as far as I can make out, — the writer shovels in 
^^haben sind geioesen geliaht hahen geivorden sein,^^ or words to that 
effect, and the monument is finished. I suppose that this closing 
hurrah is in the nature of the flourish to a man's signature — not 
necessary, but pretty. German books are easy enough to read 
when you hold them before the looking-glass or stand on your 
head, — so as to reverse the construction, — but I think that to learn 
to read and understand a German newspaper is a thing which , 
must always remain an impossibility to a foreigner. ^ 

Yet even the German books are not entirely free from attacks 
of the Parenthesis distemper — though they are usually so mild as 
to cover only a few lines, and therefore when you at last get down 
to the verb it carries some meaning to your mmd because you are 
able to remember a good deal of what has gone before. 

Now here is a sentence from a popular and excellent German 
novel, — with a slight parenthesis in it. I will make a perfectly 
literal translation, and throw in the parenthesis-marks and some 
hyphens for the assistance of the reader, — ^though in the original 
there are no parenthesis-marks or hyphens, and the reader is left to 
flounder through to the remote verb the best way he can: 

"But when he, upon the street, the (in-satin-and-silk-covered 



601 APPENDIX D. 

now- very-unconstrainedly-after-tlie-newest-fasliion-d.ressed) govern- 
ment counsellor's wife me<," etc., etc.* 

That is from "The Old Mamselle's Secret," by Mrs. Marlitt. 
And that sentence is constructed upon the most approved German 
model. You observe how far that verb is from the reader's base 
of operations; well, in a German newspaper they put their verb 
away over on the next page; and I have heard that sometimes 
after stringing along on exciting preliminaries and parentheses 
for a column or two, they get in a hurry and have to go to press 
without getting to the verb at all. Of course, then, the reader ig 
left in a very exhausted and ignorant state. 

We have the Parenthesis disease in our literature, too; and one 
may see cases of it every day in our books and newspapers: but 
with us it is the mark and sign of an unpractised writer or a cloudy 
intellect, whereas with the Germans it is doubtless the mark and 
sign of a practised pen and of the presence of that sort of luminous 
intellectual fog which stands for clearness among these people. 
For surely it is not clearness, — it necessarily can't be clearness. 
Even a jury would have penetrajtion enough to discover that. A 
writer's ideas must be a good deal confused, a good deal out of 
line and sequence, when he starts out to say that a man met a 
counsellor's wife in the street, and then right in the midst of this 
so simple undertaking halts these approaching people and makes 
them stand still until he jots down an inventory of the woman's 
dress. That is manifestly absurd. It reminds a person of those 
dentists who secure your instant and breathless interest in a tooth 
by taking a grip on it with the forceps, and then stand there and 
drawl through a tedious anecdote before they give the dreaded 
jerk. Parentheses in literature and dentistry are in bad taste. 

The Germans have another kind of parenthesis, which they 
make by splitting a verb in two and putting half of it at the be- 
ginning of an exciting chapter and the other half at the end -^^f it. 
Can any one conceive of anything more confusing than that ? 
These things are called " separable verbs." The German grammar 
IS blistered all over with separable verbs; and the wider the two 
portions of one of them are spread apart, the better the author of 

* Wenn er aber auf der Strasse der in Sammt und Seide geliiillten jetz 
sehr ungenirt nacli der neusten mode gekleideten Regierungsratliin begeg- 
Det." 



THE GERMAISr LANGUAGE. 605 

the crime is pleased with his performance. A favorite one is 
reiste ah, — which means, departed. Here is an example which I 
culled from a novel and reduced to English: 

"The trunks being now ready, he DE- after kissing his mother 
and sisters, and once more pressing to his bosom his adored 
Gretehen, who, dressed in simple white muslin, with a single tube- 
rose in the ample folds of her rich brown hair, had tottered feebly 
down the stairs, still pale from the terror and excitement of the 
past evening, but longing to lay her poor aching head yet once 
again upon the breast of him whom she loved more dearly than 
life itself, PAETED." 

However, it is not well to dwell too much on the separable 
verbs. One is sure to lose his temper early; and if he sticks to 
the subject, and will not be warned, it will at last either soften 
his brain or petrify it. Personal pronouns and adjectives are a 
fruitful nuisance in this language, and should have been left out. 
For instance, the same sound, sie, means you^ and it means she, 
and it means her, and it means it, and it means they, and it means 
tliem. Think of the ragged poverty of a language which has to 
make one word do the work of six,— and a poor little weak thing 
of only three letters at that. But mainly, think of the exaspera- 
tion of never knowing which of these meanings the speaker is 
trying to convey. This explains why, whenever a person says s2« 
to me, I generally try to kill him, if a stranger. 

Now observe the Adjectivt,, Here was a case where simplicity 
would have been an advantage; therefore, for no other reason, 
the inventor of this language complicated it all he could. When 
we wish to speak of our "good friend or friends," in our enlightened 
tongue, we stick to the one form and have no trouble or hard 
feeling about it; but with the German tongue it is different- 
When a German gets his hands on an adjective, he declines it, 
and keeps on declining it until the common sense is all dech'ned 
out of it. It is as bad as Latin. He says, for instance: 

SINGULAR. 

Nominative — Mein gute?- Freund, my good friend. 
Genitive — Meines gnten Freunde.<;, of my good friend. 
Dative — Meinem guten Freund, to my good friend. 
Accusative — Meinera gutere Freund, my good friend. 



606 APPENDIX D. 



PLURAL. 

N. — Meine gaten Freunde, my good friends. 

G. — Meiner guten Freunde, of .my good friends. 

D. — Meine?i gute?i Freunde?i, to my good friends. 

A. — Meme guten Freunde, my good friends. 

Now let the candidate for the asylum try to memorize those 
variations, and see how soon he will be elected. One might better 
go without friends in Germany than take all this trouble about 
them. I have shown what a bother it is to decline a good (male) 
friejid; well, this is only a third of the work, for there is a variety 
of new distortions of the adjective to be learned when the object 
is feminine, and still another when the object is neuter. Now 
there are more adjectives in this language than there are black 
cats in Switzerland, and they must all be as elaborately declined 
as the examples above suggested. Difficult ? — troublesome ?— »- 
these words cannot describe it. I heard a Californian student m 
Heidelberg, say, in one of his calmest moods, that he would rather 
decline two drinks than one German adjective. 

The inventor of the language seems to have taken pleasure m 
comphcating it in every y&j he could think of. For instance, if 
one is casually referring to a house, Haus, or a horse, Pferd^ or a 
dog, Hund, he spells these words as I have indicated; but if he is 
referring to them in the Dative case, he sticks on a foolish and 
unnecessary e and spells them Hause, Pferde, Hunde. So, as an 
added e often signifies the plural, as the s does with us, the new 
student is likely to go on for a month making twins out of a 
Dative dog before he discovers his mistake; and on the other 
hand, many a new student who could ill afford loss, has bought 
and paid for two dogs and only got one of them, because he igno- 
rantly bought that dog in the Dative singular when he really sup- 
posed he was talking plural, — which left the law on the seller's 
side, of course, by the strict rules of grammar, and therefore a 
suit for recovery could not lie. 

In German, all the Nouns begin with a capital letter. Now 
that is a good idea; and a good idea, in this language, is neces- 
sarily conspicuous from its lonesomeness. I consider this capital- 
izing of nouns a good idea, because by reason of it you are 
almost always able to tell a noun the minute you see it. You fall 



THE GERMAN LAJSTGUAGE. 607 

into error occasionally, because you mistake the name of a person 
for the name of a thing, and waste a good deal of time trying to 
dig a meaning out of it. German names almost always do mean 
something, and this helps to deceive the student. I translated a 
passage one day, which said that "the infuriated tigress broke 
loose and utterly ate up the unfortunate fir-forest," (^Tannenwald.) 
When I was girding up my loins to doubt this, I found out that 
Tannenwald, in this instance, was a man's name. 

Every noun has a gender, and there is no sense or system in 
the distribution; so the gender of each must be learned separately 
and by heart. There is no other way. To do this, one has to 
have a memory like a memorandum book. In G-erman, a young 
lady has no sex, while a turnip has. Think what overwrought 
reverence that shows for the turnip, and what callous disrespect 
for the girl. See how it looks in print — I translate this from a 
conversation in one of the best of the German Sunday-school 
books: 

'^Gretchen. "Wilhelm, where is the turnip? 

" Wilhelm. She has gone to the kitchen. 

'^Gretchen. Where is the accomplished and beautiful English 
maiden ? 

"Wilhelm. It has gone to the opera." 

To continue with the German genders : a tree is male, its buds 
are female, its leaves are neuter; horses are sexless, dogs are male, 
cats are female, — Tom cats included, of course; a person's mouth, 
neck, bosom, elbows, fingers, nails, feet, and body, are of the 
male sex, and his head is male or neuter according to the word 
selected to signify it, and not according to the sex of the individ- 
ual who wears it, — for in Germany all the women wear either 
male heads or sexless ones; a person's nose, lips, shoulders, breast, 
hands, hips, and toes are of the female sex ; and his hair, ears, 
eyes, chin, legs, knees, heart, and conscience, haven't any sex at 
all. The inventor of the language probably got what he knew 
about a conscience from hearsay. 

Now, by the above dissection, the reader will see that in Ger- 
many a man may think he is a man, but when he comes to look 
into the matter closely, he is bound to have his doubts; he finds 
that in sober truth he is a most ridiculous mixture; and if he ends 
by trying to comfort himself with the thought that he can at kast 



608 APPENDIX D. 

depend on a third of this mess as being manly and masculine, the 
humihating second thought will quickly remind him that in this 
respect he is no better off than any woman or cow in the land. 

In the German it is true that by some oversight of the inventor 
of the language, a AVoman is a female; but a Wife, (Weih,) is 
not, — which is unfortunate. A Wife, here, has no sex; she is 
neuter; so, according to the grammar, a fish is he, his scales are 
she, but a fishwife is neither. To describe a wife as sexless, may 
be called under-description; that is bad enough, but over-descrip- 
tion is surely worse, A German speaks of an Englishman as the 
Englunder ; to change the sex, he adds inn, and that stands for 
Englishwoman, — Englunderinn. That seems descriptive enough, 
but still it is not exact enough for a German; so he precedes the 
word with that article which indicates that the creature to follow 
is feminine, and writes it down thus: " die England erM?«," — which 
means "the she-Englishwoman.''^ I consider that that jDerson is 
over-described. 

Well, after the student has learned the sex of a great number 
of nouns, he is still in a difficulty, because he finds it impossible 
to persuade his tongue to refer to things as "7ie" and "she," and 
'^him^^ and "her,^^ which it has been always accustomed to refer 
to as "?Y." When he even frames a German sentence in his 
mind, with the hims and hers in the right places, and then works 
up his courage to the utterance-point, it is no use, — the moment 
he begins to speak his tongue flies the track and all those labored 
males and females come out as " its.'" And even when he is read- 
ing German to himself, he always calls those things " it; " whereas 
he ought to read in this way: 

Tale of the Fishwife and Its Sad Fate.* 
It is a bleak Day. Hear the Eain, how he pours, and the Hail, 
how he rattles; and see the Snow, how he drifts along, and nh 
the Mud, how deep he is ! Ah the poor Fishwife, it is stuck fast 
in the Mire ; it has dropped its Basket of Fishes ; and its Hands 
have been cut by the Scales as it seized some of the falling Crea- 
tures; and one Scale has even got into its Eye, and it cannot get 
her out. It opens its Mouth to cry for Help ; but if any Sound 
comes out of him, alas he is drowned by the raging of the Storm. 

* I capitalize the iiouns, in the German (and ancient English) fashion. 



THE GERMAN LANGUAGE. 609 

And now a Tomcat has got one of the Fishes and she will surely 
escape with him. No, she bites of£ a Fin, she holds her in her 
Mouth, — will she swallow her ? No, the Fishwife's brave Mother- 
Dog deserts his Puppies and rescues the Fin, — which he eats, him- 
self, as his Reward. 0, horror, the Lightning has struck the 
Fishbasket ; he sets him on Fire ; see the Flame, how she licks the 
doomed Utensil with her red and angry Tongue; now she attacks 
the helpless Fishwife's Foot, — she burns him up, all but the big 
Toe and even she is partly consumed; and still she spreads, still 
she waves her fiery Tongues ; she attacks the Fishwife's Leg and 
destroys it ; she attacks its Hand and destroys her; she attacks its 
poor worn Garment and destroys her also ; she attacks its Body 
and consumes him ; she wreathes herself about its Heart and it 
is consumed ; next about its Breast, and in a Moment she is a 
Cinder; now she reaches its Neck, — he goes; now its Chin, — it 
goes ; now its Nose, — she goes. In another Moment, except Help 
come, the Fishwife will be no more. Time presses, — is there none 
to succor and save ? Yes ! Joy, joy, with flying Feet the she- 
Englishwoman comes ! But alas, the generous she-Female is too 
late: where now is the fated Fishwife? It has ceased from its 
Sufferings, it has gone to a better Land ; all that is left of it for 
its loved Ones to lament over, is this poor smouldering Ash-heap. 
Ah, woful, woful Ash-heap ! Let us take him up tenderly, rever- 
ently, upon the lowly Shovel, and bear him to his long Rest, with 
the Prayer that when he rises again it will be in a Realm where 
he will have one good square responsible Sex, and have it all to 
himself, instead of having a mangy lot of assorted Sexes scattered 
all over him in Spots. 



There, now, the reader can see for himself that this pronoun- 
business is a very awkward thing for the unaccustomed tongue. 

I suppose that in all languages the similarities of look and sound 
between words which have no similarity in meaning are a fruitful 
source of perplexity to the foreigner. It is so in our tongue, and 
it is notably the case in the German. Now there is that trouble- 
some word vermuhlt : to me it has so close a resemblance, — either 
real or fancied, — to three or four other words, that I never know 
whether it means despised, painted, suspected, or married; until 1 



610 APPENDIX U. 

look in tlie dictionary, and then I find it means the latter. There 
are lots of such words, and they are a great torment. To increase 
the difficulty there are words which seem to resemble each other, 
and yet do not; but they make just as much trouble as if they 
did. For instance, there is the word vermiethen, (to let, to lease, 
to hire); and the word verheiraihen, (another way of saying to 
marry.) I heard of an Englishman who knocked at a man's door 
in Heidelberg and proposed, in the best German he could com 
mand, to " verheirathen " that house. Then there are some words 
which mean one thing when you emphasize the first syllable, but 
mean something very different if you throw the empliasis on the 
last syllable. For instance, there is a word which means a run- 
away, or the act of glancing through a book, aCcordmg to the 
placing of the emphasis; and another word which signifies to 
associate with a man, or to avoid him, according to where you put 
the emphasis, — and you can generally depend on putting it m the 
wrong place and getting into trouble. 

There are some exceedingly useful words in this language. 
Schlag, for example ; and Zug. There are three-quarters of a 
column of Schlags in the dictionary, and a column and a half of 
Zugs. The word Schleg means Blow, Stroke, Dash, Hit, Shock, 
Clip, Slap, Time, Bar, Coin, Stamp, Kind, Sort, Manner, Way, 
Apoplexy, Wood-Cutting, Enclosure, Field, Forest-Clearing. This 
is its simple and exact meaning, — that is to say, its restricted, 
its fettered meaning; but there are ways by which you can set it 
free, so that it can soar away, as on the wings of the morning, and 
never be at rest. You can hang any word you please to its tail, 
and make it mean anything you want to. You can begin with 
Schlag-ader, which means artery, and you can hang on the whole 
dictionary, word by word, clear through the alphabet to Schlag- 
wasser, which means bilge-water, — and including Schlag -mutter, 
which means mother-in-law. 

Just the same with Z'ug, Strictly speaking, Zug means Pull, 
Tug, Draught, Procession, March, Progress, Flight, Direction, 
Expedition, Train, Caravan, Passage, Stroke, Touch, Line, B'lour- 
ish, Trait of Character, Feature, Lineament, Chess-move, Organ- 
stop, Team, Whiff, Bias, Drawer, Propensity, Inhalation, Disposi- 
tion: but that thing which it does not mean, — when all its legiti- 
mate pendants have been hung on, has not been discovered yet. 



THE GERMAN LANGUAGE. 611 

One cannot over-estimate the usefulness of Schlag and Zug. 
Armed just with these two, and the word Also, what cannot the 
foreigner on German soil accomplish ? The German word Also 
is the equivalent of the English phrase "You know," and does 
not mean anything at all, — in talk, though it sometimes does in 
print. Every time a German opens his mouth an Also falls out; 
and every time he shuts it he bites one in two that was trying to 
get out. 

Now, the foreigner, equipped with these three noble words, is 
master of the situation. Let him talk right along, fearlessly; let 
him pour his indifferent German forth, and when he lacks for a 
word, let him heave a Schlag into the vacuum ; all the chances are, 
that it fits it like a plug ; but if it doesn't, let him promptly heave 
a Zug after it ; the two together can hardly fail to bung the hole ; 
but if, by a miracle, they should fail, let him simply say Also! and 
this will give him a moment's chance to think of the needful 
word. In Germany, when you load your conversational gun it is 
always best to throw in a Schlag or two and a Zug or two ; because 
it doesn't make any difference how much the rest of the charge 
may scatter, you are bound to bag something with iliem. Then 
you blandly say Also, and load up again. Nothing gives such an 
air of grace and elegance and unconstraint to a German or an 
English conversation as to scatter it full of " Also's " or " You- 
knows." 

In my note-book I find this entry : 

July 1. — In the hospital, yesterday, a word of tliirteon syllables was suc- 
cessfully removed from a patient, — a North-German from near Hamburg; 
but as most unfortunately the siugeons had opened him in the wrong 
place, under the impression that he contained a panorama, he died. The 
sad event has cast a gloom over the whole community. 

That paragraph furnishes a text for a few remarks about one of 
the most curious and notable features of my subject, — the length 
of German words. Some German words are so long that they 
have a perspective. Observe these examples: 

Freundschaftsbezeigungen. 

E illetantenauf dringlichkeiten. 

Stadtverordnetenversammlungen. 

These things are not words, they are alphabetical processions. 
And they are not rare; one can open a German newspaper any 
time and see them marching majestically across the page, — and ii 



612 APPENDIX D. 

he has any imegination he can see the banners and hear the music, 
too. They impart a martial thrill to the meekest subject. I take 
a great interest in these curiosities. Whenever I come across a 
good one, I stuff it and put it in my museum. In this way I have 
made quite a valuable collection. When I get duplicates, I ex- 
change with other collectors, and thus increase the variety of my 
stock. Here are some specimens which I lately bought at an 
auction sale of the effects of a bankrupt bric-a-brac hunter : 

Generalstaatsverokdnetenversammlungen. 

Alterthumswissenschaften. 

klnderbewahrungsanstalten. 

Unabhaengigkeitserklaerungen. 

Wiederherstellungsbestrebungen. 

AVaffenstillstandsunterhandlungen. 

Of course when one of these grand mountain ranges goes 
stretching across the printed page, it adorns and ennobles that 




A COMPLETE WORD. 

literary landscape, — ^but at the same time it is a great distress to 
the ne-w student, for it blocks up his way ; he cannot crawl under 
it, or climb over it or tunnel through it. So he resorts to the dic- 
tionary for help ; but there is no help there. The dictionary 
must draw the line somewhere, — so it leaves this sort of words 
out. And it is right, because these long things are hardly legiti- 
mate words, but are rather combinations of words, and the in- 
ventor of them ought to have been killed. They are compound 
words, with the hyphens left out. The various words used in 
building them are in the dictionary, but in a very scattered condi- 
tion ; so you can hunt the materials out, one by one, and get at 



THE GERMAN LANGUAGE. 



013 



the meaning at last, but it is a tedious and harrassing business. 
1 have tried this process upon some of the above exam^ples. 
< Freundschaftsbezeigungen " seems to be " Friendship demonstra- 
tions," which is only a foolish and clumsy way of saying "demon- 
strations of friendship." " Unabhaengigkeitserklaerungen " seems 
to be "Independencedeclarations," which is no improvement upon 
"Declarations of Independence," as far as I can see. "General- 
staatsverordnetenversammlungen " seems to be " Generalstatesrep- 
resentativesmeetings," as nearly as I can get at it, — a mere rhyth- 
mical, gushy euphuism for "meetings of the legislature," I 
judge. We used, to have a good deal of this sort of crime in our 
literature, but it has gone out, now. We used to speak of a thing 
as a "never-to-be-forgotten" circumstance, instead of cramping it 
into the simple and sufficient word " memorable " and then going 
calmly about our business as if nothing had happened. In those 
days we were not content to embalm the thing and bury it decently, 
we wanted to build a monument over it. 

But in our newspapers the compounding-disease lingers a little 
to the present day, but with the hyphens left out, in the German 
fashion. This is the shape it takes : instead of saying " Mr. Sim- 
mons, clerk of the county and district courts, was in town yester- 
day," the new form puts it thus : " Clerk of the County and 
District Court Simmons was in town yesterday." This saves 
neither time nor ink, and has an awkward sound besides. One 
often sees a remark Hke this in our papers : " Mrs. Assistant Dis. 
trict Attorney Johnson returned to her city residence yesterday 
for the season." That is a case of really unjustifiable compound- 
ing; because it not only saves no time or trouble, but confers a 
title on Mrs. Johnson which she has no right to. But these little 
mstances are trifles indeed, contrasted with the ponderous and 
dismal German system of piling jumbled compounds together. I 
wish to submit the following local item, from a Mannheim journal, 
by way of illustration : 

"In the daybeforeyesterdayshortlyaftereleveno'clock Night, the 
mthistownstandmgtavern called "The Wagoner" was downburnt. 
When the fire to the onthedownburninghouseresting Stork's Nest 
reached, flew the parent Storks away. But when the bytheraging, 
firesurrounded Nest itself caught Fire, straightway plunged the 



614 APPENDIX D. 

quickreturning MotTier-Stork into the Flames and died, her Wings 
over her young ones outspread." 

Even the cumbersome German construction is not able to take 
the pathos out of that picture, — indeed it somehow seems to- 
strengthen it. This item is dated away back yonder months ago. 
I could have used it sooner, but I was waiting to hear from the 
Father-Stork. I am still waiting. 

"Also / " If I have not shown that the German is a difficult 
language, I have at least intended to do it. I have heard of an 
American student who was asked how he was getting along with 
his German, and who answered promptly: "I am not getting 
along at all. I have worked at it hard for three level months, 
and all I have got to show for it is one solitary German phrase, — 
' Zwei glas,^ " (two glasses of beer.) He paused a moment, reflect- 
ively, then added with feeling, " But I've got that solid! " 

And if I have not also shown that German is a harassing and 
Infuriating study, my execution has been at fault, and not my 
intent. I heard lately of a worn and sorely tried American stu- 
dent who used to fly to a certain German word for relief when he 
could bear up under his aggravations no longer, — the only word 
in the whole language whose sound was sweet and precious to his 
ear and healing to his lacerated spirit. This was the word Damit. 
It was only the sound that helped him, not the meaning*; and so, 
at last, when he learned that the emphasis was not on the first 
syllable, his only stay and support was gone, and he faded away 
and died. 

I think that a description of any loud, stirring, tumultuous 
episode must be tamer in German than in English. Our descrip- 
tive words of this character have such a deep, strong, resonant 
sound, while their German equivalents do seem so thin and mild 
and energyless. Boom, burst, crash, roar, storm, bellow, blow, 
thunder, explosion; howl, cry, shout, yell, groan; battle^ hell. 
These are magnificent words; they have a force and magnitude of 
sound befitting the things which they descri'':e. But their German 
equivalents would be ever so nice to sing the children to sleep 
with, or else my awe-inspiring ears were made for display and not 
for superior usefulness in analyzing sounds. Would any man 

*It merely means, in its general sense, " Jierewith.'" 



THE GERJIAN LANGUAGE. 615 

want to die in a battle which was called by so tame a term as a 
Schlacht ? Or would not a consumptive feel too much bundled 
up, who was about to go out, in a shirt collar and a seal ring, into 
a storm which the bird-song word Gewitter was employed to de- 
scribe ? And observe the strongest of the several German equiv- 
alents for explosion, — Aushruch. Our word Toothbrush is more 
powerful than that. It seems to me that the Germans could do 
worse than import it into their language to describe particularly 
tremendous explosions with. The German word for hell, — Holle, 
— sounds more like helly than anything else; therefore, how nec- 
essarily chipper, frivolous and unimpressive it is. If a man were 
told in German to go there, could he really rise to the dignity of 
feeling insulted ? 

Having now pointed out, in detail, the several vices of this lan- 
guage, I now come to the brief and pleasant task of pointing out 
its virtues. The capitalizing of the nouns, I have already men- 
tioned. But far before this virtue stands another, — that of spell- 
ing a word according to the sound of it. After one short lesson 
in the alphabet, the student can tell how any German word is pro- 
nounced, without having to ask; whereas in our language if a 
student should inquire of us "What does B, 0, W, spell?" we 
should be obliged to reply, " Nobody can tell what it spells, when 
you set it off by itself, — you can only tell by referring to the con- 
text and finding out what it signifies, — whether it is a thing to 
shoot arrows with, or a nod of one's head, or the forward end of 
a boat." 

There are some German words which are singularly and power- 
fully effective. B^or instance, those which describe lowly, peaceful 
and affectionate home life ; those which deal with love, in any and 
all forms, from mere kindly feeling and honest good will toward 
the passing stranger, clear up to courtship ; those which deal with 
outdoor Nature, in its softest and loveliest aspects, — with meadows, 
and forests, and birds and flowers, the fragrance and sunshine of 
summer, and the moonlight of peaceful winter nights ; in a word, 
those which deal with any and all forms of rest, repose, and peace ; 
those also which deal with the creatures and marvels of fairyland; 
and lastly and chiefly, in those words which express pathos, is the 
language surpassingly rich and effective. There are German 



616 APPENDIX D. 

songs which can make a stranger to the language cry. That 
shows that the sound of the words is correct, — it interprets the 
meanings with truth and with exactness ; and so the ear is in- 
formed, and through the ear, the heart. 

The Germans do not seem to be afraid to repeat a word when 
it is the right one. They repeat it several times, if they choose. 
That is wise. But in English when we have used a word a couple 
of times in a paragraph, we imagine we are growing tautological, 
and so we are weak enough to exchange it for some other word 
which only approximates exactness, to escape what we wrongly 
fancy is a greater blemish. Repetition may be bad, but surely 
inexactness is worse. 



There are people in the world who will take a great deal of 
trouble to point out the faults in a religion or a language, and 
then go blandly about their business without suggesting any rem- 
edy. I am not that kind of a person. I have shown that the 
German language needs reforming. Very well, I am ready to 
reform it. At least I am ready to make the proper suggestions. 
Such a course as this might be immodest in another ; but I have 
devoted upwards of nine full weeks, first and last, to a careful 
and critical study of this tongue, and thus have acquired a confi- 
dence in my ability to reform it which no mere superficial culture 
could have conferred upon me. 

In the first place, I would leave out the Dative Case. It con- 
fuses the plurals ; and besides, nobody ever knows when he is in 
the Dative Case, except he discover it by accident, — and then he 
does not know when or where it was that he got into it, or how 
long he has been in it, or how he is ever going to get out of it 
again. The Dative Case is but an ornamental folly, — it is better 
to discard it. 

In the next place, I would move the Verb further up to the 
front. You may load up with ever so good a Verb, but I notice 
that you never really bring down a subject with it at the present 
German range, — you only cripple it. So I insist that this import- 
ant part of speech should be brought forward to a position where 
it may be easily seen with the naked eye. 

Thirdly, I would import some strong words from the English 



THE GEEMAIST LANGUAGE. 617 

tongue, — to swear with, and also to use in describing all sorts of 
vigorous things in a vigorous way.* 

Fourthly, I would reorganize the sexes, and distribute them 
according to the will of the Creator. This as a tribute of respect, 
if nothing else. 

Fifthly, I would do away with those great long compounded 
words; or require the speaker to deliver them m sections, with 
intermissions for refreshments. To wholly do away with them 
would be best, for ideas are more easily received and digested 
when they come one at a time than when they come in bulk. In- 
tellectual food is like any other; it is pleasanter and more benefi- 
cial to take it with a spoon than with a shovel. 

Sixthly, I would require a speaker to stop when he is done, and 
not hang a string of those useless " haben sind gewesen gehabt 
haben geworden seins " to the end of his oration. This sort of 
gew-gaws undignify a speech, instead of adding a grace. They 
are therefore an offense, and should be discarded. 

Seventhly, I would discard the Parenthesis. Also the re-Paren- 
thesis, the re-re-parenthesis, and the re-re-re-re-re-re-parentheses, 
and likewise the final wide-reaching all-enclosing King-parenthesis. 
I would require every individual, be he high or low, to unfold a 
plain straightforward tale, or else coil it and sit on it and hold his 
peace. Infractions of this law should be punishable with death. 

And eighthly and lastly, I would retain Ziig and Schlag, with 
their pendants, and discard the rest of the vocabulary. This would 
simplify the language. 

I have now named what I regard as the most necessary and 
important changes. These are perhaps all I could be expected to 

* "Verdammt," and its variations and enlargements, are words which 
have plenty of meaning, but the sounds are so mild and ineffectual that 
German ladies can use them without sin. German ladies who could not 
be induced to commit a sin by any persuasion or compulsion, promptly 
rip out one of these harmless little words when they tear their dresses or 
don't like the soup. It sounds about as wicked as our " My gracious. " 
German ladies are constantly saying, "Ach ! Gott!" "MeinGott!" " Gott 
in Himmel!" "Herr Gott!" "Der Herr Jesus!" etc. They think our 
ladies have the same custom, perhaps, for I once heard a gentle and lovely 
old German lady say to a sweet young American girl, ' ' The two lan- 
guages are so alike — how pleasant that is; we say 'Ach! Gott! ' you say 
'Goddam.'" 

36 



618 APPENDIX D. 

name for nothing ; but there are other suggestions which I can 
and will make in case my proposed application shall result in my 
being formally employed by the government in the work of re- 
forming the language. 

My philological studies have Satisfied me that a gifted person 
ought to learn English (barring spelling and pronouncing), in 
30 hours, French in 30 days, and German in 30 years. It seems 
manifest, then, that the latter tongue ought to be trimmed down 
and repaired. If it is to remain as it is, it ought to be gently 
and reverently set aside among the dead languages, for only the 
dead have time to learn it. 

A FouETH OF July Oration in the Geeman Tongue, deliv- 
ered AT A Banquet of the Anglo-American Club of stu- 
dents BY THE Author of this book. 

Gentlemen : Since I arrived, a month ago, in this old wonder- 
land, this vast garden of Germany, my English tongue has so 
often proved a useless piece of baggage to me, and so trouble- 
some to carry around, in a country where they haven't the check- 
ing system for luggage, that I finally set to work, last week, and 
learned the German language. Also! Es freiit mich dass dies so 
ist, denn es muss, in ein hauptsachlich degree, hoflich sein, dass 
man auf ein occasion like this, sein Rede in die Sprache des 
Landes worin he boards, aussprechen soU. Dafiir habe ich, aus 
reinische Verlegenheit,— no Vergangenheit, — no, I mean Hof- 
lichkeit, — atis reinische Hoflichkeit habe ich resolved to tackle 
this business in the German language, iim Gottes willen! Also! 
Sie miissen so fretindlich sein, und verzeih mich die interlarding 
von ein oder zwei Englischer Worte, hie und da, denn ich finde 
dass die deutche is not a very copious language, and so when 
you've really got anything to say, you've got to draw on a lan- 
guage that can stand the strain. 

Wenn aber man kann nicht meinem Rede verstehen, so werde 
ich ihm spater dasselbe iibersetz, wenn er solche Dienst verlangen 
wollen haben werden soUen sein hatte. (I don't know what 
woUen haben werden sollen sein hatte means, but I notice they 
always put it at the end of a German sentence — merely for general 
literary gorgeousness, I suppose.) 

This IS a great and justly honored day, — a day which is worthy 



THE GERMAN LANGUAGE. 619 

of the veneration in which it is held by the true patriots of all 
climes and nationalities, —a day which offers a fruitful theme for 
thought and speech; und meinem Freilnde, — no, meine?i Fieuden, 
— meines Frehndes, — well, take your choice, they're all the same 
price; I don't know which one is right, — also ! ich habe gehabt 
haben worden gewesen sein, as Goethe says, in his Paradise Lost, 
— ich, — ich, — that is to say, — ich, — but let us change cars. 

Also ! Die Anblick so viele G-rossbrittanischer tind Amerikan- 
ischer hier zusammengetroffen in Bruderliche concord, ist zwar a 
welcome and inspiriting spectacle. And what has moved you 
to it ? Can the terse German tongue rise to the expression of this 
impulse ? Is it Freundschaftsbezeigungenstadtverordnetenver- 
sammlungenfamilieneigenthiimlichkeiten ? Nein, o nein ! This 
is a crisp and noble word, but it fails to pierce the marrow of the 
impulse which has gathered this friendly meeting and produced 
diese Anblick, — eine Anblick welche ist gut zu sehen, — gut fiir 
die Aiigen in a foreign land and a far country, — eine Anblick 
solche als in die gewonliche Heidelberger phrase nennt man ein 
" schones Aussicht ! " Ja, freilich natiirlich wahrscheinlich eben- 
sowohl ! Also ! Die Aussicht auf dem Konigstuhl mehr gross- 
erer ist, aber geistlische sprechend nicht so schon, lob ' Gott ! 
Because sie sind hier zusammengetroffen, in Bruderlichem con- 
cord, ein grossen Tag zu feiern, whose high benefits were not for 
one land and one locality only, but have conferred a measure of 
good upon all lands that know liberty to day, and love it. Hiin- 
dert Jahre voriiber, waren die Englander und die Amerikaner 
Feinde; aber heute sind sie herzlichen Frefinde, Gott sei Dank ! 
May this good fellowship endure ; may these banners here blended 
in amity, so remain ; may they never any more wave over oppos 
ing hosts, or be stained with blood which was kindred, is kindred, 
and always will be kindred, until a line drawn upon a map shall 
be able to say, '^TMs bars the ancestral blood from flowing in the 
veins of the descendant 1 " 



E. 



LEGEND OF THE CASTLES. 

CALLED THE "SWALLOWS NEST " AND "THE BROTHEES," AS CON- 
DENSED FROM THE captain's TALE. 

In the neighborhood of three hundred years ago the Swallow's 
Nest and the larger castle between it and Neckarsteinach were 
owned and occupied by two old knights who were twin brothers, 
and bachelors. They had no relatives. They were very rich. 
They had fought through the wars and retired to private life — 
covered with honorable scars. They were honest, honorable men 
in their dealings, but the people had given them a couple of nick- 
names which were very suggestive, — Herr Givenaught and Herr 
Heartless. The old knights were so proud of these names that if 
a burgher called them by their right ones they would correct him. 

The most renowned scholar in Europe, at that time, was the 
Herr Doctor Franz Reikmann, who lived in Heidelberg. All Ger- 
many was proud of the venerable scholar, who lived in the sim- 
plest way, for great scholars are always poor. He was poor, as to 
money, but very rich in his sweet young daughter Hildegarde and 
his library. He had been all his life collecting his library, book 
by book, and he loved it as a miser loves his hoarded gold. He 
said the two strings of his heart were rooted, the one in his 
daughter, the other in his books ; and that if either were severed 
he must die. Now in an evil hour, hoping to win a marriage 
portion for his child, this simple old man had entrusted his small 
savings to a sharper to be ventured in a glittering speculation. 
But that was not the worst of it : he signed a paper, — without 
reading it. That is the way with poets and scholars, they always 
sign without reading. This cunning paper made him responsible 
for heaps of things. The result was, that one night he found 
himself in debt to the sharper eight thousand pieces of gold ! 

(620) 



THE OLD SCHOLAE IN TROUBLE. 621 

— an amoTint so prodigious that it simply stupefied him to thmk 
of it. It was a night of woe in that house. 

"I must part with my library, — I have nothing else. So per- 
ishes one heartstring," said the old man. 

" What will it bring, father ? " asked the girl. 

"iNothing ! It IS worth seven hundred pieces of gold; but by 
auction it will go for iittle or nothing. ' 

*' Then you will have parted with the half of your heart and the 
]oy of your life to no purpose, since so mighty a burden of debt 
will remain behind." 

'•There is no help for it, my child. Our darlings must pass 
under the hammer. We must pay what we can." 

" My father, I have a feeling that the dear Virgin will come to 
our help. Let us not lose heart." 

" She cannot devise a miracle that will turn nothing into eight 
thousand gold pieces, and lesser help will bring us little peace." 

" She can do even greater things, my father. She will save us,. 
I know she will." 

Toward morning, while the old man sat exhausted and asleep 
in his chair where he had been sitting before his books as one 
who watches by his beloved dead and prints the features on his 
memory for a solace in the aftertime of empty desolation, his 
daughter sprang into the room and gently woke him, saying, — 

" My presentiment was true ! She will save us. Three times 
has she appeared to me in my dreams, and said, ' Go to the Hen 
Givenaught, go to the Herr Heartless, ask them to come and bid.' 
There, did I not tell you she would save us, the thrice blessed 
Virgin ! " 

Sad as the old man was, he was obliged to laugh. 

" Thou mightest as well appeal to the rocks their castles stand 
upon as to the harder ones that lie in those men's breasts, my 
child. They bid on books writ in the learned tongues ! — they can 
scarce read their own." 

But Hildegarde's faith was in no wise shaken. Bright and early 
she was on her way up the Neckar road, as joyous as a bird. 

Meantime Herr Givenaught and Herr Heartless were having 
an early breakfast in the former's castle, — ^the Sparrow's Nest, — 
and flavoring it with a qua,rrel; for although these twins bore a 
love for each other which almost amounted to worship, there was 



622 APPENDIX E. 

one subject upon wliicli they could not touch without calling each 
other hard names, — and yet it was the subject which they oftenest 
touched upon. 

"I tell you," said Givenaught, "you will beggar yourself yet, 
with your insane squanderings of money upon what you choose 
to consider poor and worthy objects. All these years I have 
implored you to stop this foolish custom and husband your means, 
but all in vain. You are always lying to me about these secret 
benevolences, but you never have managed to deceive me yet. 
Every time a poor devil has been set upon his feet I have detected 
vour hand in it — incorrigible ass ! " 

" Every time you didn't set him on his feet yourself, you mean. 
Where I give one unfortunate a little private lift, you do the same 
for a dozen. The idea of your swelling around the country and 
petting yourself with the nickname of Givenaught, — intolerable 
humbug ! Before I would be such a fraud as that, I would cut 
my right hand off. Your life is a continual lie. But go on, I 
have tried my best to save you from beggaring yourself by your 
riotous charities, — now for the thousandth time I wash my hands 
of the consequences. A maundering old fool ! that's what you are." 

'And you a blethering old idiot ! " roared Givenaught, spring- 
ing up. 

" I won't stay in the presence of a man who has no more deli- 
cacy than to call me such names. Mannerless swine ! " 

So saying. Herr Heartless sprang up, in a passion. But some 
lucky accident intervened, as usual, to change the subject, and the 
daily quarrel ended in the customary daily loving reconcihation. 
The grey-headed old eccentrics parted, and Herr Heartless walked 
off to his own castle. 

Half an hour later, Hildegarde was standing in the presence of 
Herr Givenaught. He heard her story, and said, — 

'' I am sorry for you, my child, but I am very poor, I cai^e noth- 
ing for bookish rubbish, I shall not be there." 

He said the hard words kindly, but they nearly broke poor 
Hildegarde's heart, nevertheless. When she was gone the old 
heart-breaker muttered, rubbing his hands, — 

"It was a good stroke. I have saved my brother's pocket this 
time, in spite of him. Nothing else would have prevented his 
rushing off to rescue the old scholar, the pride of Germany, from 



THE AUCTION SALE. 623 

his troubles. The poor child won't venture near Mm after the 
rebuff she has received from his brother the Givenaught." 

But he was mistaken. The Virgin had commanded, and Hilde- 
garde would obey. She went to Herr Heartless and told her 
story. But he said coldly, — 

" I am very poor, my child, and books are nothing to me. I 
wish you well, but 1 shall not come." 

"When Hildegarde was gone, he chuckled and said, — 

''How my fool of a soft-headed soft-hearted bi-other would 
rage if he knew how cunningly I have saved his pocket. How 
he would have flown to the old man's rescue ! But the girl won't 
venture near him now." 

When Hildegarde reached home, her father asked her how she 
had prospered. She said, — 

"The Virgin has promised, and she will keep her word; but 
not in the way I thought. She knows her own ways, and they 
are best. 

The old man patted her on the head, and smiled a doubting 
smile, but he honored her for her brave faith, nevertheless. 

II. 

Next day the people assembled in the great hall of the Ritter 
tavern, to witness the auction, — for the proprietor had said the 
treasure of Germany's most honored son should be bartered away 
in no meaner place. Hildegarde and her father sat close to the 
books, silent and sorrowful, and holding each other's hands. 
There was a great crowd of people present. The bidding began,— 

" How much for this precious library, just as it stands, all com- 
plete ? " called the auctioneer. 

" Fifty pieces of gold 1 " 

"A hundred!" 

" Two hundred 1 " 

'' Three ! " 

" Four ! " 

" Five hundred I " 

" Five twenty-five ! " 

A brief pause. 

'• Five forty 1 " 

A longer pause, while the auctioneer redoubled his persuasions. 



624 AI^PENDIX E. 

" Five forty-five ! " 

A heavy drag — the aiictioneer persuaded, pleaded, implored, — 
it was useless, everybody remained silent, — 

" Well, then, — going, going, — one, — two, — " 

" Five hundred and fifty I " 

This in a shrill voice, from a bent old man, all hung with rags, 
and with a green patch over his left eye. Everybody in his vicin- 
ity turned and gazed at him. It was Givenaught in disguise. 
He was using a disguised voice, too. 

*' Good ! " cried the auctioneer. " Going, going, — one, — -two, — " 

" Five hundred and sixty ! " 

This, in a deep harsh voice, from the midst of the crowd at the 
other end of the room. The people near by turned, and saw an 
old man, in a strange costume, supporting himself on crutches. 
He wore a long white beard, and blue spectacles. It was Herr 
Heartless, in disguise, and using a disguised voice. 

"Good again! Going, going, — one, — " 

" Six hundred ! " 

Sensation. The crowd raised a cheer, and some one cried out, 
" Go it. Green -patch ! " This tickled the audience and a score of 
voices shouted, " Go it, Green-patch ! " 

" Going, — going, — going, — third and last call, — one, two, — " 

" Seven hundred ! " 

"Huzzah ! — well done, Crutches ! " cried a voice. The crowd 
took it up, and shouted altogether, " Well done, Crutches ! " 

'* Splendid, gentlemen ! you are doing magnificently. Going, 
going,—" 

"A thousand ! " 

" Three cheers for Green-patch I Up and at him. Crutches I '' 

" Going, — going, — " 

" Two thousand ! " 

And while the people cheered and shouted, " Crutches " muttered, 
«*Who can this devil be, that is fighting so to get these useless 
books ? — But no matter, he shan't have them. The pride of Ger- 
many shall have his books if it beggars me to buy them for him." 

"Going, going, going, — " 

"Three thousand ! " 

" Come, everybody — give a rouser for Green-patch ! " 

And while they did it, " Green-patch " muttered, "This cripple 



THE KIVAL BIDDERS. 625 

is plainly a lunatic; but the old scholar shall have his books, nev- 
ertheless, though my pocket sweat for it." 

" Going,— going,— " 

•' Four thousand 1 " 

" Huzza ! " 

" Five thousand I " 

"Huzza!" 

" Six thousand ! " 

" Huzza ! " , • 

" Seven thousand ! " 

" Huzza ! " 

" Mght thousand ! " 

"We are saved, father! I told you the Holy Virgin would 
keep her word I " " Blessed be her sacred name ! " said the old 
scholar, with emotion. The crowd roared, " Huzza, huzza, huzza, 
— at him again. Green-patch I " 

" Going,— going,— " 

" Ten thousand ! " As Givenaught shouted this, his excitement 
was so great that he forgot himself and used his natural voice. 
His brother recognized it, and muttered, under cover of the storm 
of cheers, — 

"Aha, you are there, are you, besotted old fool ? Take the 
books, I know what you'll do with them ! " 

So saying, he slipped out of the place and the auction was at 
an end. Givenaught shouldered his way to Hildegarde, whispered 
a word in her ear, and then he, also, vanished. The old scholar 
and his daughter embraced, and the former said, " Truly the Holy 
Mother has done more than she promised, child, for she has given 
you a splendid marriage portion, — think of it, two thousand pieces 
of gold ! " 

"And more still," cried Hildegarde, " for she has given you 
back your books; the stranger whispered me that he would none 
of them, — ' the honored son of Germany must keep them,' so he 
said. I would I might have asked his name and kissed his hand 
and begged his blessing; but he was Our Lady's angel, and it is 
not meet that we of earth should venture speech with them that 
dwell above." . 



F. 



* GERMAN JOURNALS. 

The daily journals of Hamburg, Frankfort, Baden, Munich and 
Augsburg are all constructed on the same general plan. I speak 
of these because I am more familiar with them than with any 
other German papers. They contain no " editorials " whatever; 
no " personals," — and this is rather a merit than a demerit, per- 
haps; no funny-paragraph column; no police court reports; no 
reports of proceedings of higher courts; no information about 
prize fights or other dog fights, horse races, walking-matches, 
yachting contests, rifle-matches, or other sporting matters of any 
sort; no reports of banquet-speeches; no department of curious 
odds and ends of floating fact and gossip; no "rumors" about 
anything or anybody; no prognostications or prophecies about 
anything or anybody; no lists of patents granted or sought, or 
any reference to such things ; no abuse of public officials, big or 
little, or complaints against them, or praises of them ; no religious 
column Saturdays, no rehash of cold sermons Mondays; no 
<' weather indications ; " no " local item " unveilings of what is 
happening in town, — nothing of a local nature, indeed, is men- 
tioned, beyond the movements of some prince or the proposed 
meeting of some deliberative body. 

After so formidable a Hst of what one can't find in a German 
daily, the question may well be asked. What can be found in it ? 
It is easily answered: A child's handful of telegrams, mainly 
about European national and international political movements; 
letter-correspondence about the same things ; market reports. 
There you have it. That is what a German daily is made of. A 
German daily is the slowest and saddest and dreariest of the inven- 
tions of man. Our own dailies infuriate the reader, pretty o.ften ; 

(626) 



GSEMAlSr JOURNALS. 627 

the German daily only stupefies him. Once a week the German 
daily of the highest class lightens up its heavy columns, — that is, 
it thinks it lightens them up, — with a profound, an abysmal, book 
criticism; a criticism which carries you down, down, down, into 
the scientific bowels of the subject, — for the German critic is 
nothing if not scientific, — and when you come up at last and scent 
the fresh air and see the bonny daylight once more, you resolve 
without a dissenting voice that a book-criticism is a mistaken way 
to lighten up a German daily. Sometimes, in place of the criti- 
cism, the first-class daily gives you what it thinks is a gay and 
chipper essay, — about ancient Grecian funeral customs, or the 
ancient Egyptian method of tarring a mummy, or the reasons for 
beheving that some of the peoples who existed before the flood 
did not approve of cats. These are not unpleasant subjects ; they 
are not uninteresting subjects ; they are even exciting subjects, — 
until one of these massive scientists gets hold of them. He soon 
convinces you that even these matters can be handled in such a 
way as to make a person low-spirited. 

As T have said, the average German daily is made up solely of 
correspondence, — a trifle of it by telegraph, the rest of it by mail. 
Every paragraph has the side-head, " London," " Vienna," or some 
other town, and a date. And always, before the name of the 
town, is placed a letter or a sign, to indicate who the correspond- 
ent is, so that the authorities can find him when they want to 
hang him. Stars, crosses, triangles, squares, half -moons, suns, — 
such are some of the signs used by correspondents. 

Some of the dailies move too fast, others too slowly. For 
instance, my Heidelberg daily was always twenty-four hours old 
when it arrived at the hotel; but one of my Munich evening 
papers used to come a full twenty-four hours before it was due. 

Some of the less important dailies give one a tablespoonful of a 
continued story every day ; it is strung across the bottom of the 
page, in the French fashion. By subscribing for the paper for 
five years T judge that a man might succeed in getting pretty much 
all of the story. 

If you ask a citizen of Munich which is the best Munich daily 
journal, he will always tell you that there is only one good Munich 
daily, and that it is published in ?^ugsburg, forty or fifty miles away. 
It i3 like saying that the best daily paper in New York is published 



628 APPENDIX F. 

out in New Jersey somewhere. Yes, the Augsburg Allgemeine 
Zeitung is "the best Munich paper," and it is the one I had in my 
mind when 1 was. describing a " first-class German daily " above. 
The entire paper, opened out, is not quite as large as a single page 
of the New York Herald. It is printed on both sides, of course ; 
but in such large type that its entire contents could be put, m 
Herald type, upon a single page of the Herald^ — and there would 
still be room enough on the page for the Zeitung^ s " supplement '' 
and some portion of the Zeitung''s next day's contents. 

Such is the first-class daily. The dailies actually printed in 
Munich are all called second-class by the public. If you ask 
which is the best of these second-class papers they say there is no 
difference, one is as good as another. I have preserved a copy of 
one of them; it is called the Miinchener Tages-Anzeiger, and bears date 
January 25, 1879. Comparisons are odious, but they need not be 
malicious ; and without any malice I wish to compare this journal, 
published in a German city of 170,000 inhabitants with journals 
of other countries. I know of no other way to enable the reader 
to " size " the thing. 

A column of an average daily paper in America contains from 
1800 to 2500 words; the reading matter in a single issue con- 
sists of from 25,000 to 50,000 words. The reading matter m 
my copy of the Munich journal consists of a total of 1,654 words, 
— for I counted them. That would be nearly a column of one of 
our dailies. A single issue of the bulkiest daily newspaper in the 
world, — the London Times, — often contains 100,000 words of 
reading matter. Considering that the Daily Anzeiger issues the 
usual 26 numbers per month, the reading matter in a single 
number of the London Times would keep it in " copy " two 
months and a half ! 

The Anzeiger is an eight-page paper; its page is one inch wider 
and one inch longer than a foolscap page ; that is to say, the 
dimensions of its page are somewhere between those of a school- 
boy's slate and a lady's pocket handkerchief. One-fourth of the 
first page is taken up with the heading of the journal; this gives 
it a rather top-heavy appearance; the rest of the first page is 
reading matter; all of the second page is readiug matter; the 
other six pages are devoted to advertisements. 

The reading matter is compressed into two hundred and five 



GEEMAN JOURNALS. 629 

small pica lines, and is lighted up with eight pica head-lines. 
The bill of fare is as follows; First, under a pica head-line, to 
enforce attention and respect, is a four line sermon urging mankind 
to remember that although they are pilgrims here below, they are 
yet heirs of heaven; and that '-When they depart from earth 
they soar to heaven," Perhaps a four -line sermon in a Saturday 
paper is the sufficient German equivalent of the eight or ten col- 
umns of sermons which the New Yorkers get in their Monday 
morning papers. The latest news (two days old), follows the 
four-line sermon, under the pica head-line " Telegrams," — these 
are " telegraphed " with a pair of scissors out of the Augshurger 
Zeitung of the day before. These telegrams consist of fourteen 
and two-thirds lines from Berlin, fifteen lines from Vienna, and 
two and five-eighths lines from Calcutta, Thirty-three small pica 
lines of telegraphic news in a daily journal in a King's Capital 
of 170,000 inhabitants, is surely not an over-dose. Next, we 
have the pica heading, "News of the Day," under which the fol- 
lowing facts are set forth: Prince Leopald is going on a visit to 
Vienna, six fines ; Prince Arnulph is comming back from Eussia, 
two lines; the Landtag will meet at 10 o'clock in the morning 
and consider an election law, three lines and one word over; a 
city government item, five and one-half lines; prices of tickets to 
the proposed grand Charity Ball, twenty-three lines, — for this one 
item occupies almost one-fourth of the entire first page; there is 
to be a wonderful "Wagner concert in Frankfurst-on-the-Main, 
with an orchestra of one hundred and eight instruments, seven 
and one-half lines. That concludes the first page. Eighty-five 
lines, altogether, on that page, including three head-lines. About 
fifty of those lines, as one perceives deal with local matters; so 
the reporters are not over-worked. 

Exactly one-half of the second page i^ occupied with an opera- 
criticism, fifty-three lines (three of them being head-lines), and 
"Death Notices," ten lines. 

The other half of the second page is made up of two paragraphs 
under the head of "Miscellaneous News." One of these para« 
graphs tells about a quarrel between the Czar of Russia and his 
eldest son, twenty-one and a half lines; and the other tells about 
the atrocious destruction of a peasant child by its parents, forty 
lines, or one-fifth of the total of the reading matter contained in 
the paper. 



630 APPENDIX F. 

Consider what a fiftli part of the reading matter of an American 
daily paper issued m a city of 170,000 inhabitants amounts to ! 
Think what a mass it is. Would any one suppose I could so 
snugly tuck away such a mass in a chapter of this book that it 
would be difficult to find it again if the reader lost his place ? 
Surely not. I will translate that child-murder word for word, to 
give the reader a realizing sense of what a fifth part of the reading 
matter of a Munich daily actually is when it comes under meas- 
urement of the eye: 

"From Oberkreuzberg, January 21, the Donan Zeitung receives 
a long account of a crime, which we shorten as follows: In Rame- 
tuach, a village near Eppenschlag, lived a young married couple 
with two children, one of which, a boy aged five, was born three 
years before the marriage. For this reason, and also because a 
relative at Iggensbach had bequeathed M400 ($100) to the boy, 
the heartless father considered him in the way; so the unnatural 
parents determined to sacrifice him in the cruelest possible manner. 
They proceeded to starve him slowly to death, meantime fright- 
fully maltreating him, — as the village people now make known, 
when it is too late. The boy was shut up in a hole, and when 
people passed by he cried, and implored them to give him bread. 
His long-continued tortures and deprivations destroyed him at 
last, on the third of January. The sudden {sic) death of the child 
created suspicion, the more so as the body was immediately 
clothed and laid upon the bier. Therefore, the coroner gave 
notice, and an inquest was held on the 6th. "What a pitiful 
spectacle was disclosed then! The body was a complete skel- 
eton. The stomach and intestines were utterly empty, they 
contained nothing whatever. The flesh on the corpse was not 
as thick as the back of a knife, and incisions in it brought tot 
a drop of blood. . There was not a piece of sound skin the size 
of a dollar on the whole body; wounds, scars, bruises, discolored 
extravasated blood, everywhere, — even on the soles of the feet 
there were wounds. The cruel parents asserted that the boy had 
been so bad that they had been obliged to use severe punishments, 
and that he finally fell over a bench -and broke his neck. How- 
ever, they were arrested two weeks after the inquest and put in 
the prison at Deggendorf." 

Yes, they were arrested "two weeks after the inquest." What 



GERMAN IIUMOE. 



631 



a home-sound that has. That kind of poHce briskness rather 
more reminds me of my native land than German journalism does. 

I think a German daily journal doesn't do any good to speak of, 
but at the same time it doesn't do any harm. That is a very large 
merit and should not be lightly weighed, nor lightly thought of. 

The German humorous papers are beautifully printed, upon fine 
paper, and the illustrations are finely drawn, finely engraved, and 
ire not vapidly funny, but deliciously so. So also, generally speak- 
ing, are the two or three terse sentences which accompany the pic- 
tures. 1 remember one of these pictures: a most dilapidated 
tramp is ruefully contemplating some coins which he m his open 
palm; he says, "Well begging is getting played out. Only about 
5 marks ($1.25) for the whole day; many an ofBcial makes more!" 
And 1 call to mmd a picture of a commercial traveler who is about 
to unroll his samples: 

Merchant.— ■(^ettishlj) No, don't. 1 don't want to buy any- 
thing! 

DrummeT. — If you please, 1 was only going to show you — 

Merchant — But I don't wish to see theml 

Drummer. — (after a pause, pleadingly) — But do you mind letting 
me look at them?— I haven't seen them for three weeksl 




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